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POEM 



BY 



WILLIAM H. HOLCOMBE, M.D. 




NEW YORK: 

M ^ S O :sr BROTHERS, 

6 & 7 MERGER STREET 

1860. 






Entered, according to Act of Cougi-ess, in the year 1860, by 

MASON BROTHEPwS, 

Ta the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for tho 

Southern District of New York. 



BTEEEOTYPEB 15 Y PRINTED BY 

SMITH & McDOUGAL, C. A. ALVORD, 

84 Beekman-st., N. Y. 15 Vandewater-st 



MY BROTHER, 



JAMES p. HOLCOMBE, L.L.D., 

PKOFES80E OF CIVIL, CONSTITUTIONAL AND INTBENATIONAL LAW, IN THE 
ITNIVEKSITY OF VIEGINIA, 



BY WHOSE FRATERNAL SOLICITUDE AND EXAMPLE 



MY LOVE OF LITERATURE WAS FIRST ENKINDLED 



mfts W'ltth tolumc 



IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 



PEEF A GE . 



The pursuit of Literature has been with me, 
not a business, but an occasional recreation. 
Assiduous devotion to the Medical Profession 
for the last fifteen years has left me little time 
or inclination to cultivate the Poetic Art. 
Still, the material for a small volume has 
gradually accumulated, and with difl&dence I 
make my first, and most probably my last 
contribution to the stock of American Poetry. 

Several of the pieces are based upon the 
beautiful psychological doctrines of Swedenborg ; 
and for the benefit of those who are unac- 
quainted with his writings, I have appended, 
in the form of notes, some interesting extracts 
from his works, elucidative of the subject-mat- 
ter of the poems. 



VI PREFACE. 

Whilst I am not indifferent as to the ver- 
dict which the critics and time will pass upon 
these effusions, I have published them for the 
purpose^ as Mrs. Browning expresses it, " of 
throwing them behind me, so as to leave clear 
the path before, toward better aims and ends." 

May, 1860. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Dedication iii 

Preface v 

MISCELLAJTEOUS POEMS. 

Ode on the Birth of a Child 13 

Our Little Aleck 21 

The Lost Treasure 23 

Our Three Children 26 

The Angel op Morning 28 

Is this the Spot ? 29 

Childhood 31 

To My Mother 33 

The First Flower 36 

Recollections of the Blue Pudge 38 

My Little Ned and 1 41 

The- Stray Lamb 44 

Little Jule 48 

Rosebud and Sunbeam 50 

Substance and Shadow, or the Child and the Rivulet 51 

The Invisible 54 



Vll] CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Pictdee 55 

Eecovery from Yellow Fevee 5T 

The Mountain Height 62 

Spiritual Flowers 65 

To A Rose 66 

The Cpiimes 68 

Ode to Powers' Greek Slave 71 

My Lyre 74 

The Poet and the Brook 76 

Nocturne 80 

Music 84 

The Wild Reunion 86 

Farewell 91 

The Orange Flower 93 

Lines to a Young Friend 94 

The Roving Heart, 96 

Love Me Alone 98 

Love's the Only Treasure 100 

Old Aunt Hannah 103 

My Yalentine 106 

Kisses 108 

'Twas Like a Silver Bugle 109 

Love is Omnipotent 112 

Gooi) Fight ! 115 

Beautiful, Divinely Glowing ! 117 

Orleanna 119 

Uncle' Jerry 122 

isabelle 124 



CONTENTS. ^ IX 

PAGE 

The Poet's Diadem ■. 128 

The Deeam of the Eose 129 

Those Hazel Eyes ! 131 

The Poet's Songs 133 

The Streamlet's Warn-ixg 135 

"When Lotelt Mart 137 

Idoline 139 

Fidele 143 

Deserted 145 

The Desecrated Chapel, a Swedish Legend 146 

Love in Search of Truth, an Allegorv. 149 

One of Marion's Men 154 

Circe for Calypso 157 

Eeligious Inspiration from Nature 160 

Transcendentalism 163 

The Old Musician 165 

The Idiot jSTegro 168 

The Southern Man 172 

The Mine 175 

Sunshine 176 

" All is Well" 178 

The Old Country Church 180 

The Mystic Union 185 

The Stream of Life 187 

The Infant in Heaven 189 

Consolation from Nature 192 

The Philanthropist and Child . 194 

Descensus Averno, a Mysticism • 198 



X CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The, Ma&io Garden. 202 

Spiritual Vision 207 

The Shepherd of Cyprus. 210 

Sonnet. . To Emanuel Swedenborg 217 

A Home Picture 219 

The Hero's G-rave , 220 

Death op .General Lee 222 

Before and after the Battle 225 

Hope, in "Winter , 22*7 

The. Graveyard 231 

New Thanatopsis 235 

L'Envoi 243 

IVY CLIFF, A Poem. 245 

AGATHE, A Tragedy 265 

NOTES TO THE POEMS 329 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



ODE 



ON THE BIETH OF A CHILD, 



I. 

A CHILD is born ! 
The joyous tidings sent 
Go leaping jubilant 
From tongue to tongue in music on, 

A child is born ! 
Rejoice, thou mighty Human Heart ! 
Another fountain from the sacred ocean 
Begins on earth its individual motion ; 
Another life from God's life flows apart 

And feels the throb of its identity. 
Self-conscious, loving, knowing, seeing. 
Time-thralled and yet eternal being, 
Thou heaven-derived humanity ! 



14 ODEONTHE 

How holy is thy birth ! 
Some star our sense discovers not 
Enunciative points the spot, 
And angel-choirs are chanting here 
To guardian spirits kneeling near, 

"Glory to God and peace on earth !" 



II. 



Man ! Thou art the heart of nature ! 

Thy pulses pass to every creature ; 

The electric motions of thy soul 

Through all the living kingdoms roll, 
Flow to the earth and animate the whole. 
For this bright being which before us lies, 
The world is full of innate sympathies. 

The trees rejoice as when a bud 

Peeps crimson from its mother-wood ; 

From nest to nest successive springs 
A choral twitter of delight, 

As if some jiair of little wings 

Were spread for their initial flight ; 



BIRTH OF A CHILD. 15 

The rivulets lisp the tidings on, , 
Kippling it out to moss and stone ; 

Flower winks to flower with smiling nod^ 
And morning, on the hills aglow. 
Bids all her tip-toe breezes blow 
To waft the message, come from God — 
A child is born ! a sign is given ! 

A living revelation made from heaven ! 



Ill . 

This Human Soul, 
This flesh-engirdled flame. 

This microcosm of the whole ! 
What seer's or sage's erudition 
Can satisfy the child's petition. 
And tell us whence, and how, and why it came ? 
Not in this present sensuous sphere 
Hath this mysterious life begun : 
The meanest flower that blossoms here 
Was once an essence in the sun ; 
And naught of nature's dead material 
Is woven into our woof ethereal. 



16 ODEONTHE 

Through inner realms of light 

This star descended by a path unknown, 

Invisible in its superior zone 

Until it burst, thus beautiful and bright, 

Upon our happy sight. 
Yet hath it tokens of its derivation. 
There is no wave without some agitation, 
No subtlest ether without some vibration : 

All things have traces which reveal 

What they have felt or what they feel. 
The shell-fish tints his convoluted chamber 
With his own hues of purple, pearl and amber ; 

The rose's leaf betrays impresses 

Where fairy lips have left caresses ; 

And this sweet face, so round and small. 

Index of scarcely aught at all, 
Hath delicate motions not its own, 
Dimples like shadows o'er it thrown. 
The last, faint, trembling terminations 
Of wonderful irradiations 
From angel-presences within. 
And those Eternal Powers to which we are akin. 



BIRTH OF A CHILD. 17 



IV . 



infancy ! with all thy forms enchanting, 
Thou art the nursery of paradise ; 
Whither the Master frequent comes, transplanting 
Some favorite to His mansions in the skies. 
The little graves we water with our tears 
Are naught but empty sepulchers, 
Whence the dear souls, unbound, unladen. 
Have risen to their eternal Eden. 
Under the Saviour's merciful direction 
Still are they linked by innermost affection, 
More durable than blood or birth. 
To kindred spirits left on earth ; 
Like zejohyrs which are the souls of flowers 
Keleased by time's cold touch or ours ; 
Returning with most melodious motions. 
With sweet invisible devotions. 
Dallying about their sister-blossoms, 
Breathino; their lives into their bosoms ! 



18 ODEONTHE 



V . 



see ! a morn of May ! 
A shining, balmy, breezy one ; 

The little children out at play 
On sweet, green landscapes in the sun 
Searching for shells the rivulet's brim, 
Watching the silver minnows swim, 
Chasing the rainbow butterfly, 
Or mocking echo's faint reply. 

trustful, happy, guileless creatures ! 

How near je are to angel-natures ! 

Content with what each day is given 

And fed with manna fresh from heaven. 
The little loves and charities. 
The sweet and gentle courtesies 

Ye from each other thus evoke at play, 
Are treasures inly stored away. 

Into their forms, like dew into the flower 

The Lord distills his vivifying power. 
And blessings they become for ever; 
States of the mind which perish never ; 



BIRTH OF A CHILD. 19 

But losing every tint of sadness 
Return with multiplying gladness ; 
Germs of eternal happiness 
Which never cease to grow and bless ; 
Strength for the seasons of temptation, 
Means of eventual renovation, 
The bonds that link us to the angels most — 
The light wliich may be hidden,but never can be lost ! 

VI . 

The Golden Age so full of love and grace 
Was but the sunny childhood of our race ; 
And its bright angels from the inmost heavc-n 
As guardian-spirits to our babes are given. 
Thus childhood with its sweet conditions, 
Its pure, angelic intuitions. 

Its gentle, untaught sympathies. 
And all its dear credulities. 
Is a bright record which may prove 

To skeptic sensualists extreme 
The possibility of love. 

And old traditions not a dream. 
It is a symbol of our primal glory. 
The sweet-toned echo of its wondrous story ; 



20 ODE ON THE BIRTH OF A CHILD, 

A fragment beautiful and ample, 
A column of the buried temple. 
Yet are these vestiges of daylight gone, 
Purplings prophetic of another sun. 
Beneath whose glorious illustration 
Shall come the promised restoration 
From sin and grief and pain ; 
When Man shall be a Child again ! 
And in whose light, more plastic far than ours, 
The angels of the highest heaven appear 
To those who view them from an humbler sphere 
As naked infants garlanded with flowers. 



\ 



OUR LITTLE ALECK. 



When thou wert born, my angel boy ! 

I wrote a song for thee ; 
The music of that wondrous joy 

Which thou wert then to me. 

Alas ! alas ! the tribute lay, 

My heart so fondly gave, 
In requiem echoes died away 

Upon thy little grave. 

Soon, soon the fountains which supplied 
Thy precious wants went dry, 

But sorrow's never-ebbing tide 
Yet fills thy mother's eye. 



22 OUR LITTLE ALECK. 

Mute her guitar's untended strings. 
Her book lies on the shelf ; 

She weeps o'er all thy little things 
As if thej were thyself; 

As if they were that beauteous form 

We left in earth alone, 
The little cage whence bright and warm 

The heavenly bird had flown. 

Aleck ! since thy little star 
Hath vanished into heaven, 

All earthly things have seemed ajar, 
And — may we be forgiven 

If it is sinful ! but we crave 
What Heaven will surely give. 

Death with thy body in the grave 
And life where thou dost live. 



THE LOST TREASUEE 



Oft in the sunny Spring 

When pretty buds are peeping, 
Sad are the thoughts they bring, 
How can we cease from weeping ? 
Our own sweet Bud, 
So pure and good. 
In which our hearts delighted. 
The spoiler's breath. 
The frost of Death, 
Our own sweet Bud has blighted. 
So, in the sunny Spring, 

When pretty buds are peeping. 
Sad are the thoughts they bring, 
How can we cease from weeping ? 



24 THE LOST TREASURE 

Oft on the Summer morns. 



■'^ 



When azure birds are flying, 
Our hearts amid their thorns 
Are sighing, ever sighing. 
Our own sweet Bird 
No more is heard, 
Its heavenly flight is taken ! 
Its light is gone. 
Its music flown. 
And we are left forsaken ! 
So, on the Summer morns. 

When azure birds are flying, 
Our hearts amid their thorns. 
Are sighing, ever sighing. 



Oft on the Autumn days. 

When blight is all-pervading, 
We smile with thankful praise 
That Life itself is fading. 
How glad and free, 
! we shall be 
To drop its heavy burden ! 



THE LOST TREASURE. 25 

Our Bud shall spring, 
Our Bird shall sing 
Again, beyond the Jordan ! 
So, in the Autumn days. 

When blight is all-pervading, 
We smile with thankful praise 
That Life itself is fading. 

2 



OUR THREE CHILDREN. 



With three sweet children are we blest ! 

Aleck we feel but cannot see ; 
Warwick is at his mother's breast, 

And Lucy on her father's knee ; 
Five forms, united, yet apart — 
Five faces and a single heart. 

Aleck, the happiest, passed away 
Softly as sunset into heaven, 

A seraph-child, on earth astray. 

And back to seeking Seraphs given ; 

But casting on us from above 

His double image for our love. 

We need no little sepulcher 

Where roses and sweet-williams grow, 



OUR THREE CHILDREN. 27 

No little garments kept with care^ 

No little playthings — treasured so ! 
We need no tokens of snch kind 
To keep our angel-hoy in mind. 

He comes in Lucy's shining face 

And in her ringlets, strand for strand, 

His little gestures, full of grace. 

Are made with Warwick's dimpled hand ; 

Through Lucy's lips we hear him speak, 

We kiss his tears from Warwick's cheek. 

Our Aleck is a little star 

That leads our hearts to Bethlehem, 
With angel-voices from afar. 

Jesus, our Lord ! we follow them ; 
We bring to Thee with faith intense 
Our gold, our myrrh, our frankincense ! 



THE ANGEL OF MOENINa. 



I CANNOT discover my face to your sight, 

Nor tell you the name which in heaven I bear : 

That face would dissolve into haloes of light. 
The name into musicaL tones on the air. 

But, breathing the life of an age which has gone. 
You may call me Aurora, the far-shining one. 

Who dwells in the shell- tinctured tent of the morn, 
And sits like a page at the feet of the sun. 

I watch o'er the beautiful souls who begin 
The morning of life undefaced by a stain, 

And o'er those who awake from the dark night 
of sin 
To the spiritual morning, like children again. 



IS THIS THE SPOT? 



Is this the spot where once so well 
My taskless childhood loved to stray ? 

Where now the sweet but nameless spell 
Which lured mine idle step away ? 

The charms which then my fancy fed 
In vain I now essay to find, 

The Spirit of the place has fled 
And left its grosser part behind. 

The rocks are not so quaint and gray, 
The leaves are not so fre^h and green , 

The brook upon its noisy way 

Is cheerless through the sylvan scene. 



30 IS THIS THE SPOT? 

I am not raptured now to liear 

The warbled joys from every bough ; 

The witching sky, so blue and clear, 
Is but a common prospect now. 

'Tis I have changed ! for nature still 
To childhood's heart is just as dear, 

And forests, waters, field and hill 
Have music for its listening ear. 

The dream of youth, which comes to all, 
Has passed like bright Aurora's train ; 

Sweet Memory may its form recall. 
But cannot give its power again. 

The silvery streamlet of the glen, 
Which loves and fairies hovered o'er, 

Has flowed into the haunts of men 
And lost its beauties evermore. 



CHILDHOOD. 



SCENES of my Childhood ! ye cannot restore me 
The light and the glow of my life's early dawn ; 

The gardens, the meadows, the hills are before me. 
But something which gave them their glory has 
gone. 

The roses are blooming by zephyr still haunted, 
And evening all dreamily sits by the stream ; 

But ah ! not the roses my sweet mother planted, 
And ah ! not the evening when love was the 
dream ! 

Like skies in the depth of a bright lake inverted, 
Heaven lies in the heart of our childhood serene ; 

But dark as that water by sunlight deserted 
Is the spirit where Time with its shadow hath 
been. 



32 CHILDHOOD. 

The best of the Angels who love us and guide us 
Attend upon Childhood and gladden its way ; 

But subtly the Demons of evil divide us 
And lead the young flocks from their shepherds 

astray. 

Though far from their care, and in spite of their 
warning 

We wander away on a sorrowful track, 
Those Angels of youth, on the hills of the morning, 

Stand star-like in glory and beckon us back. 

Their eyes still pursue u^ with radiant affection. 
They sigh that our life from their own is with- 
drawn. 

We feel their regrets, and with fond recollection 
We sigh in return that our childhood has gone. 



TO MY MOTHEK. 



No fresh green spot of Spring is found, 
The wintry snow has clad the ground, 
The cold air has no joyful sound, 

My mother ! 

Hushed is the water's note of glee. 
No song conies from the birdless tree. 
But yet I have a song for thee. 

My mother ! 

For till the light of love depart. 
There is a spring within my heart 
Of which the changeless sun thou art. 

My mother ! 



34 TO MY MOTHER. 

When diildhood welcomed "bird and bee, 
When music breathed from every tree, 
When thou wert all in all to me, 

My mother ! 

When nature's sunlight on my brow 
Was not so tinged with shade as now, 
And all things seemed as kind as thou. 

My mother ! 

My view of life was like a scene 
Deep-mirrored in a lake serene, 
Bright, loving skies and hills of green, 

My mother ! 

The picture now is not so fair. 
For winds of doubt and clouds of care 
Have broke the glittering calmness there, 

My mother ! 

But still the memory of thy face 
All later memories can replace. 
The winds can calm — the clouds can chase - 

My mother ! 



TO MY MOTHER. 35 

And to the spirit sorrow-riven 
Restore that light so early given, 
The light that leads — ^with thee — to heaven, 

My mother ! 



THE FIKST FLO WEE 



BEAUTIFUL and glorious birth ! 

We bless thee, child-like one ! 
Born of our sacred mother Earth 

And fathered by the Sun. 

Hail ! sweet and solitary Flower ! 

Like the first star above, 
That comes before his evening hour 

As on a work of love ; 

Like the first faint and tender light 
The crescent moon displays ; 

Like the first touch of ether bright 
Before the morning's blaze ; 



THE FIRST TLOWER. 37 

Like the first pleasant woodland sound 

The Southern warblers bring, 
Which follow o'er the greening ground 

The .dewy step of Spring. 

Evening has now a gentler beam, 

And Morn a brighter glow ; 
While mountain summits give the stream 

Their fast dissolving snow. 

Thus, from the varied mental year 

May wintry sorrows flee ! 
And the first bud of Joy appear, 

beauteous Flower, with thee ! 



KECOLLEOTIONS OF THE BLUE EIDQE. 



Thou dearest Mountain of the range ! 

At whose eternal base I drew 
My breathj and where I would exchange 

Earth's light for heaven's unfolding view ; 

My sensuous body stands afar, 
An alien form in toil and pain ; 

My Spirit, leaping like a star, 
Looks from thy sunny side again. 

Beneath the glow of summer day 

Thy linked sisters sweetly lie, 
Stretching their soft blue arms away, 

Almost incorporate with the sky. 



THEBLUERIDGE. 39 

One bird, like single ship at sea, 

Swims on the shining air alone ; 
The rivulet, like a child astray. 

Weeps o'er its couch of mountain stone. 

The wind sighs gently through the pine 
With that ethereal sound which stirs, 

In soft responsive hearts like mine, 

Thoughts that are symboled best by tears. 

Down, down the valley, glimmering far. 
My native town, embowered in trees, 

Sends up its household smoke in air 
To melt into the passing breeze. 

While casual from the forest green 

Beams out old James's sparkling crest ; 

Where oft in boyhood I have seen 
His silver roll of morning mist. 

And yonder is the sacred ground 

Where many a friend and kinsman lies ; 

The sun, from many a marbled mound, 
Glints brightly to my moistened eyes. 



40 THE BLUEKIDGE. 

Alas ! the scene, so sweet and fair, 
Fades like dissolving fairy spell ; 

A spectral twilight films the air, 

And dirges break from memory's bell ! 



MY LITTLE NED AND I 



My little playmate 's dead and gone ! 

I gave him many a tear ! 
A merry little negro boy, 

Just twelve years old this year. 
Alas ! that on my childhood's heart 

So great a grief should lie ! 
We '11 no more play, by night or day. 

My little Ned and I ! 

He was my shadow where I went, 

Subservient to my will, 
But with enduring gentleness 

He made me gentler still. 
We climb'd the trees, we bridged the brook, 

We chased the butterfly; 
We'll no more play, by night or day. 

My little Ned and I ! 



42 MY LITTLE NED AND I, 

I knew, when he became so ill, 

His little soul would go, 
Although my mother nursed him well, 

And the doctor said, "Oh no V 
For I had dreamed I saw his face 

Look smiling from the sky ; 
We '11 no more play, by night or day. 

My little Ned and I ! 

I heard him talking to himself 

About the children fair. 
With spangled dresses, all so fine. 

Who played around him there ; 
He whispered low and promised them 

To join them by and by ; 
We '11 no more play, by night or day, 

My little Ned and I ! 

That long, long night we watched his death, 

The dogs howled at the door. 
The owls cried from the forest tree 

A hundred times or more ; 
My mother closed his glazing eyes, 

Whilst I stood sobbing by ; 



MY LITTLE NED AND I. 43 

We'll no more play, by night or day, 
My little Ned and I ! 

And when the great plantation bell 

Kesounded for the roll. 
The roll-call of the heavens received 

Another shining soul. 
I am a schoolboy now — and he — 

An angel in the sky ; 
We'll no more play, by night or day. 

My little Ned and I ! 



THE STKAY LAMB. 



What dost thou, timid creature ! here, 
In mute astonishment and fear, 
Gazing so meekly up and down 
The crowded avenues of town ? 
While at some window, far away, 
Kegardless now of books or play, 
Thy little mistress sits forlorn. 
Disconsolate since thou hast gone ; 
Like a poor mother, full of fears. 
Weeping and watching through her tears ; 
Weeping for one allured to roam 
From all the sanctities of home, 



THE STRAY LAMB. 45 

And wander down life's devious way, 
From duty, love and peace astray, 
Watching, with each returning sun. 
For him — the unre turning one. 

Poor truant nursling of the fold 1 
Bewildered, lonely, sad and cold, 
Eemote from thy congenial sphere. 
Unloved, unled, unpitied here. 
Dost thou not gaze far down the street, 
Where woods and skies in vista meet — 
The woods of greenest, fairest hue, 
The skies of brightest, loving blue — 
And fancy what awaits thee there ? 
A life serene, a lustrous air, 
A shaded, quiet, cool retreat, 
A haven from the dust and heat. 
With longings such as poet feels 
For what his inward sense reveals. 
With visions such as mortals have 
Of life and rest beyond the grave. 

Lives there a man could pass thee by 
With busy step and heedless eye. 



46 THE STKAY LAMB. 

Nor through the veil of seeming chance 
Discern thy true significance ? 
A still small voice I deem thou art, 
A brief, bright moral to the heart ; 
One of those lessons round us strown 
In sounds and colors, leaf and stone, 
Whereby consoling angels can 
Converse in symbols still with man ; 
Such as a violet's modest face 
Illumining some desert place, 
A single star, whose eye of light 
Peers underneath some cloud of night ; 
A smile of resignation meek. 
Sparkling on sorrow's furrowed cheek ; 
A child's dear shout of merriment, 
A wild bird's carol of content, , 
Bursting upOn us unawares. 
When we are burdened down with cares ; 
Melodious memories unsought. 
Startling us into pleasant thought ; 
Things of an evanescent power 
Brief as the fragrance of a flower, 
Which, having been, may be no more, 
But leave us better than before. 



THE STRAY LAMB. 47 

There is not in this world of sin 

A soul so deeply sunk therein. 

Thronged though it be with crimes and cares, 

Eevenges, malices, despairs ; 

However dire the phantoms there, 

However pestilent its air, 

However dreary its abodes, 

And dedicate to demon-gods. 

But in its thoroughfares, night and day, 

There ever is some Lamb astray. 

Some light from heaven, some fragment thence 

Of primal love and innocence, 

"Which keeps the angels on its track 

To lead, and love, and lure it back ! 



LITTLE JULE. 



Little Jule at yonder sod 

Weeps as if her heart would break ; 
In the graveyard, newly trod, 
Weeps for little Lucy's sake ! 
Angel Lucy ! sweet and mild, 
Scarce a baby, scarce a child : 
Slowly, softly laid away 
Underneath the fearful clay ; 
Kisses on her little brow, 
Ah ! she does not feel them now ! 
Koses on her little bosom, 
Her sweet self a broken blossom ! 
Now the ladies turn awav 

With their weeping almost blind ; 
Little Jule in twilight gray 
Lingers weeping still behind. 



LITTLE JULE. 49 

Little slave ! why shouldst thou care 

Thus thy foolish heart to break ; 
Weeping solitary here 

For this little Lucy's sake ? 
the world is cold and lone ! 
Little mistress dead and gone ! 
Little playthings put away, 
Things for tears and not for play ; 
Little cradle, rocked no more, 
All the little prattling o'er ! 
Every little pout forgot, 
And a frown remembered not, 
Every little kiss and word 
Doubly, trebly, now endeared. — 
Let her watch and let her weep 
At the little new-made grave ! 
Sacred watch will Angels keep 
O'er the mistress and the slave ! 



EOSEBUD AND SUNBEAM. 



A EosEBUD unfolded its leaves to the view, 
All crimson with, beauty, all brightened with dew, 
Like a soul which has fallen from happier spheres, 
Yet smiling with hope through its penitent tears. 

A Sunbeam came down to the heart of the Eose, 
Like a thought which illumines the mind where 

it glows ; 
Like an angel come down from the bright world 

of bliss 
To commune with some beautiful spirit in this. 

When homeward the Sunbeam retreated at even. 
The soul of the Flower went as fragrance to heaven, 
As the heart which has cherished some Truth from 

above. 
Ascends with that Truth to the regions of Love. 



SUBSTANCE AND SHADOW, 



OE, THE CHILD AND THE EIVULET. 



I SEE a bright and joyous Child astray 
Along the Brooklet in a vernal meadow ; 

I watch their gentle harmonies at play, 

As one might watch a violet and its shadow. 



Is not the Kivulet's verdure, sweet and wild. 
Symbol of something in the living creature ? 

The thoughts and loves and raptures of the Child 
In flower-forms imaged on the face of nature ? 

Those sounds which make the listener's heart rejoice, 
Those jubilant notes upon the ether flying, 

Have in the rippling Stream an answering Voice 
Like their own echoes from the earth replying. 



52 SUBSTANCE AND SHADOW, 

Those smiles of innocent beauty, sign and seal 
Of angel-presence in the young affection, 

Are like these sheeny sparkles which reveal 
The loving sun in thousand-fold reflection. 

From ancient hills beneath auroral beam 

Crept out the Brook with dewy kisses laden, 

Pure, bright and silent, like the human Stream, 
Forth-stealing from the golden gates of Eden. 

Unvexed, unviolated, free they roam. 

Those mated currents gloriously outflowing. 

The light and music of their little home, 
Eeceiving joy and double joy bestowing. 

Each in its sphere of action onward pours. 
Lapsing away from early bird and blossom, 

Till strange creations rise upon its shores. 
And mighty shadows sink into its bosom. 

The human channel wears into the grave, 
Losing on earth its individual motion. 

While its bright symbol, the complying Wave, 
Gives up its being to the wasteful ocean. 



OR THE CHILD AND THE RIVULET. 53 

But lo ! the halcyon vision re-appears ! 

An Angel stands beside the Crystal Kiver ! 
The heart of Childhood in celestial spheres 

Is pictured in the Stream of Life forever ! 

Truth lies concealed within this metaphor ; 

Substance is dual in its every feature ; 
Our Souls are mirrored all around us here, 

Our livps repeated in the forms of Nature. 



THE INVISIBLE. 



I Ve heard sweet bells upon the breeze 

When none were ringing, 
And the soft sound of waving trees, 

And insect-singing. 



Though in the woodland, still and deep, 

No leaf was falling, 
And e'en the clouds were laid asleep. 

Thej were Spirits calling : 

Voices they were with whisperings 

Of friends departed ; 
Angels they were with comfortings 

For the weary-hearted. 



THE PICTUKE. 



I SAW a lovely Picture 

In a gallery of Art, 
Which charmed me like an April rose, 

And I wear it in my heart; 
Not like the rose of gardens, 

Which withers soon away, 
But planted in my heart of hearts, 

It never shall decay. 



It was a blooming Maiden, 

So beautiful and pure, 
T' was mirrored from an angeFs face 

In a vision, I am sure. 



56 THE PICTURE. 

A Dove of heavenly plumage 

Upon her bosom lay ; 
I saw the Spirit of the Dove 

Around her lips at play. 

I longed to see the Painter, 

I longed to grasp his hand, 
I know there is a common ground 

Whereon we two could stand. 
I know he has been happy, 

And his heart is full of love, 
Or he never could have imaged forth 

That Maiden and her Dove. 

For as the Dove resembles 

The Virgin's spotless thought, 
So is this Picture like the Soul 

From which it was outwrought ; 
And of that glorious Spirit 

I catch a radiant part, 
Which I have called a rose — and plant 

Forever in my heart. 



KECOYEKY FKOM YELLOW FEYER. 



Oh joy ! tlie crisis comes ! Earth bears me back 
Triumphant from the fearful grasp of Night 
Unto the myriad scenes of Life again. 
The pleasant morn is shining in my face, 
I hear the loud wind blowing in the trees, 
Ah me ! how musically ! I behold 
The clouds glide by my window on their far, 
Deep journeys in the sky, and I would send 
Praises and thanks, could they be messengers 
Of aught emotional. Upon the fields, 
Upon the woods, the waters, everywhere. 
Sunlight has dropt his colors, and they lie 
In bright and living beauty. What a world 
Of wonders do I see, hear, feel again 1 



58 KECOVERYFROM 

Late I was curtained from the happy round 
Of day and night, and from all human things ; 
Pained, fevered, tortured, stupored by disease. 
Death, who e'er stalks the garden of our life, 
Gathering the withered blossoms to his hand, 
Whilst the soul-essences exhale to heaven, 
Surveyed me with fixed eye. Dire phantasy 
Crowded the burning chambers of the brain 
With frightful images. Tempests at sea, 
Storms, heaving, blackening, roaring o'er the land, 
Painful and difficult escapes from peril. 
And all imaginable scenes of blood — 
Staggering in flight, from fierce hyena howls. 
O'er the hot sands of silent wildernesses — 
From crag to crag, down to some unknown beach, 
Interminably falling, falling, falling — 
Or swimming, floating far away, forlorn. 
In uproar of the elemental world — 
Such were my dreams of horror. Sounds I heard 
But not in terpre table, and I saw 
Gigantic shapes in threatening attitudes 
Stalking athwart the murky air, which lay 
Like a sea-mist betwixt me and the sun. 



YELLOW FEVER. 59 

When the fierce morbid fires had paled away, 
Left powerless, trembling on the sluggish verge 
Of Lethe's ashen water, I beheld 
A soft array of gentler, brighter scenes, 
Yet touched with melancholy. The old brook 
Whereby I spent my wild vacation hours. 
With a loved playmate's sweet, alluring voice. 
Called me to ramble with it down the glen. 
Twirling the leaves and kissing all the flowers ; 
But when I thought I reached its sparkling brim, 
The voice went further down the dale, receding, 
Which I pursued o'er rugged rocks, alone. 
Till I despaired, for it receded still. 
Smiling through trees and calling as it ran. 
Then saw I Florence in the orchard walks 
Float o'er the ground like music, bright as June, 
Sporting with golden locks and childish joy 
About the rose-red apples. And I went 
Searching and sighing through the mellowed shade, 
From path to path, from tree to tree, in pain, 
Searching and sighing, for the fairy form 
Had vanished like a sunbeam. Last I heard 
Kemote but clear a bell of strangest sound, 
Ringing and ringing in a dark, green wood, 



60 RECOVERY FROM 

Such pure, sweet, melting, holy cadences, 
That eagerly with tears I followed them. 
But chased the flying echoes all in vain. 
And stood in ancient solitudes of shade 
Silent and wonder-riven, whilst overhead 
Angels were whispering in the summer air. 

As 'twere a river of life and human sense, 
A gentle river ehbing to the sea, 
Dripping away from lawn, and field, and bower, 
From all that loved it and from all it loved. 
Seemed my own soul when passing, as I thought, 
From earth and all its dear ones. Sad I stood 
At the dark gateway which divides our lives 
Present and future. One sweet form was near, 
Made mine in heaven and earth, whose angel face 
Shone star-like round the darkness of my couch. 
The rest were happy in Virginian homes. 
Strangers would bury me and leave my grave 
Unmarked, unvisited by friends or flowers. 
Then, like a picture looming from afar, 
I saw a little family of grief : 
A noble, gray-haired, venerable man. 
Bowed silently ; my kind old grandmother 



YELLOW FEVER. Ql 

Grieved in her corner at the common loss ; 
My pale-faced mother praying through her tears ; 
And a sad group of manly brothers, touched 
Each his own way with sorrow. But they passed 
Like shadows o'er my brain, and then came on 
A crowd of undistinguishable thoughts, 
Hopes, fears and wishes, but not unillumed 
By calms of prayer and some few blissful gleams 
Of Heaven's eternal city. 

Author of Life ! from whom I have derived 
This fresh, warm stream which quickens now my 

spirit, 
So let me keep it for my daily being, 
So use it in Thy will — that without fear 
And with the resignation of a heart 
Made Thine entirely, I may give it back 
At Thine own bidding ! 



THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT. 



Oh ! for the bold and breezy height 
Of some old Alp or Appenine, 

Waving with oak and laurel bright, 
Or cedar and the odorous pine ; 
Radiantly colored with the shine 

Of summer sun, and far above 
This dull and dusty atmosphere, 
Where man is racked with toil and care, 

And little knows or feels of love ! 

Beneath the shadow of vast trees. 

On such a summit I could lie 
All the bright afternoon at ease. 

And from the aerial station spy 



THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT. 63 

The spread of valleys far and wide, 
Sloping to hills on either side, 

Tinctured with sunlight and the gleams 
Of clustered domes and rural homes, 

Of groves, green knolls, and glinting streams, 
And . all that makes life rich and sweet. 
Brilliantly pictured at my feet : 

Till all things darkened from afar 
And Twilight solemn, slow and late. 
Came weeping from the western gate 

Of heaven and lit her single star. 

Nor sad nor lonely I would note 

In the sweet hush of mountain air, 
From all the life of man remote 

What glorious tides of life are there ! 
An insect world, with joy replete. 
Would throb serenely at my feet ; 
The birds in every arbored nook 
Be musical ; the new-born brook, 
From its rock-cradle peeping forth, 
Would lisp the secret of its birth. 
And stealing with a pleasant sheen 
Like infant-smile, from out the shade. 



64 THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT. 

Fling careless down the deep ravine 
And shatter into white cascade : 

A thing of motion, music, mirth ! 
As if a rainbow, tempest-riven, 
Had melted from the walls of heaven 

And made a rivulet on the earth. 

And see ! on subtlest ether borne, 

The floating palaces of cloud ! 
Suburban villas of the sun. 
Wrought by the winds in gorgeous mold. 
With sapphire tissues, pearl and gold ! 
Behind whose transitory walls, 
Sits Orion in his starry halls. 

Tuning his lyre for coming night, 
Which those can almost hear who stand 

Upon the lustrous mountain height, 
A promontory of the Land, 

Far-stretching in a Sea of Light. 



SPIEITUAL FLOWEES. 



In every human heart there grows 
A sister pair of fadeless flowers ; 

Truth is the Lily — Love the Eose — 
Transplanted from celestial bowers. 

'Tis watchful Duty's gentle care, 
To keep them ever in her sight ; 

To feed them on the beams of air, 

And shield them from the dews of night. 

And when they've filled the little sphere 
To earthly joys and sorrows given, 

Commissioned Angels will appear, 
And bear the exiles back to heaven. 



TO A KOSE. 



About thy form, child of Spring, 
The trilling blue-bird loves to sing, 
And bees and winds and dews repair 
To taste the breathing fragrance there ; 
But not thy beauties outward shown, 
Are treasures to my heart alone : 
For, radiant Kose ! thou art to me 
The pledge of things I can not see, 
A Messenger, a Mystery. 

0, were the lustrous fountain sought. 
Sweet symbol of ethereal thought ! 
From whence thy stream of being sprung, 
Outflowing thus so bright and young ; 



TO A ROSE. 67 

Methinks, Kose ! it would be found 
A Fountain on celestial ground, 
Whence God's divinest blessings flow, 
Through spirit-realms to man below, 
And duplicate on nature's face 
The tokens of his power and grace. 

Then, lovely Herald ! linger long. 

Like echo of an angel's song, 

Like angel-thought from brighter sphere, 

In beauty architectured here. 

And when thy tissues fade and fall. 

This moral shall my heart recall, 

Our life is never lost when gone. 

But life to deeper life withdrawn ! 



THE CHIMES. 



The stillness of the sunny Sabbath, morn 

Is broken by a chime of tuneful bells ! 

The strains of this aerial music come 

Loud, long and cheerful, swelling forth in glee ; 

Then die complainingly upon the air, 

And when you pause and list, and deem them gone, 

Break out again in freshness and in joy. 

Oft have I hearkened to the varying peal, 

And fondly dreamed (" which was not all a dream") 

That in the intonations there were couched 

Expressions for each passion of the heart. 

The soft and silver tone was that of Hope, 
Stealing persuasively into the ear ; 
Such tone as I have thought the waters gave 
When tinkling through the meadows of the Spring, 



THECHIMES. 69 

Or mated birds, in glow of mutual love, 

Building their nests within a glittering tent 

Of blended leaves and blossoms. Quick and shrill 

As wild alarm of fire, or call to arms. 

Fear's startled voice, but changing to Despair, 

Its throbs tumultuous slowly softened down, 

Through tolling bell and beat of muffled drum, 

Down into breathless silence. Bursting forth 

Without a discord was the note of Joy, 

Full, rapid e'en to mirthfulness, like that 

With which my childhood's heart leaped up to heai 

My village church-bells, in the Sabbath sun, 

Peal gaily forth. A melancholy voice, 

Yet with a trace of Hope's melodious sound, 

A gentle, pensive, beauteous symphony, 

Dallying in fondness on the piatient air, 

I took for Love's, and treasured in my soul. 

Too well I knew the fitful wail of Grief ! 

A plaintive song, such as the Autumn wind 

Sings softly to itself in faded woods, 

Seeking in vain the many-colored flowers 

The Spring had promised. And my soul arose 

Higher and higher, when Triumphant Faith, 

Exultant o'er calamity and death. 



70 THECHIMES. 

Poured its condensed vibrations on the air, 
Like the wild chanting of cathedral choirs, 
Or the far-smiting thunder of the sea ; 
Yea — almost imitative of that song 
The morning angels, in their flaming robes, 
Eaise for the coming Sun. 

When I have strayed 
Too far on the entangled path of life, 
And have forgotten Man's great destinies, 
0, Sacred Herald ! call me sweetly back 
By the pure influence of thy holy chime. 
Wake once again that music of the mind. 
When pleasing thoughts like pleasing sounds unite, 
And melt me into reverential joy ! 



ODE TO POWEES' GKEEK SLAVE. 



Ideal of all hearts ! what hast thou done, 
Thus fettered, silent, melancholy ? 
Thou ! beautiful, serene and holy, 

As mountain summit hallowed by the Sun, 
Or Star dispensing sweetest light 
O'er the subdued and silent realm of night. 

Can Beauty such as in thy form appears 

Partake our common hopes and fears ? 

Feel human love or grieve with human tears ? 

In the serene and spiritual atmosphere 
From thy pure chastity outflowing, 
Around thee luminously glowing, 

We do forget thy mortal grief and care ; 



72 ODE TO powers' greek slave 

And see thee by interior light, 
A Kevelation to our mental sight ; 
Thy Beauty with diviner meaning fraught, 
A Shining Hieroglyph outwrought, 
Ethereal vesture of Eternal Thought ! 



Thou art the entranced Spirit of our Kace 

Bowed in submissive meditation, 

Silent in deep humiliation, 
Unsphered and exiled from thy heavenly place ; 

In sin's austerest bondage now, 

Yet with the light - of Eden on thy brow, 
A bow of promise, shining to reprove 
Our hearts, incredulous of Love 
And those sweet Powers which guide us from above. 



We may not liken thee to earthly things ; 

To aught that might be changed or perish. 
To aught that we could cease to cherish. 

Bright outbirth of our best imaginings ! 
Thou Sunbeam of the spiritual sphere. 
Caught from its ether and embodied here, 



ODE TO powers' GREEK SLAVE. 73 

Making such, music in our mental frame 

As from the Egyptian statue came. 

When the Sun touched it with his lips of flame. 

In the world's childhood, near its radiant birth, 
In ages mystical and golden, 
When angel faces were beholden, 
And godlike statues fell from heaven to earth. 
Had thy dread loveliness been found 
Haloing with light some spot of holy ground. 
It had been worshiped as some Plastic Power 
Which weaves the rainbow and the flower, 
Or flames m purple at the morning hour. 

From the cold rock the Hebrew Prophet brought 
The living waters sweetly glowing 
To fainting multitudes out-flowing ; 
Such blessing art thou in the realm of Thought ! 
No hapless futures with a dearth 
Of inspiration e'er shall scourge the earth, 
While thou dost stand, a Fountain subtly riven, 
Whereby fresh life may still be given, 
And primal sympathies renewed with Heaven ! 



MY LYEE. 



The Lyre I touch, with faltering hand 
Was never tuned in princely halls ; 
It was not framed in Music's land 
For fetes and carnivals : 
A mystic birth 
On freer earth, 
Had it 'mid rocks and waterfalls. 

I found it in the mountain wood, 

Hung high upon the forest tree : 
The Winds that loved the solitude, 
The Waves that to the sea 
Bounded along. 
In light and song. 
Grave to these strings their melody. 



M Y L Y R E . 75 

And like the murmurs of the Deep, 
Still lingering in the spiral shell, 
Unbidden, from their charmed sleep, 
Mysterious numbers swell, 
In grief or ire, 
Across my Lyre, 
Eolian wail or tocsin knell. 

When brother-minstrels shall repair 
To glean my ashes from the pyre. 
Like cloudlet melting into air, 
My loved and shadowy Lyre, 
Of fairy birth. 
Shall pass from earth. 
And join its own Primeval Choir. 



THE POET AND THE BKOOK. 



POET. 

Sparkling child of nature ! why 
tStar-like glance so swiftly by ? 
Every bird is hushed, unseen. 
In his curtained tent of green ; 
Every bee on open flower 
Sheathes his wing this sunny hour ; 
On the slope lies radiant June, 
Sleeping in the lap of Koon ; 
And the meadow now to thee 
Would a nursing mother be ; 
Cease thy childlike race, and rest 
Softly on the meadow's breast ! 



THE POET AND THE BROOK. 77 



BROOK. 

Sweet tlie spot and bright the day ! 
Bat my waves must glide away 
To adorn some other scene, 
Brighten other banks with green, 
Glimmer through the darkest woods, 
Break the air of solitudes, 
Bearing as they flow along 
Joy and beauty, life and song. 



POET. 

Kooky chasm across thy way 
Soon may weave thy shroud of spray, 
Winter's breath from bleakest hill 
Strike thee silent, cold and still. 
Happier lie in ease and bliss. 
Center of such group as tliis ; 
While at night the skyey train 
From thy mirror shine again. 
On such restless heart as thine 
Stars of heaven can never shine ! 



78 THE POET AND THE BROOK. 



BROOK. 

Suns in distant, deep array, 
Thou dost call the Milky Way, 
All their glory lost to thee, 
Glimmering through immensity : 
So in every gleam I make. 
As o'er chiming stones I break, 
Sparkling fragment to thine eye. 
Suns and systems pictured lie ; 
For to him who labors most 
Least of earth or heaven is lost. 
And his form, however small. 
Daguerreotypes the Sacred All. 

POET. 

Changeling ! ever dost thou roam. 
Without country, without home ; 
Nature vainly spreads her store, 
Thankless thou dost yearn for more ; 
Violets shed their sweet perfume 
O'er their cradle and their tomb ; 



THE POET AND THE BKOOK. 79 

And the birds enamored grow 
Of some green, protecting boagh : 
All in motion, sound and spray, 
What allures thy step away ? 



BROOK. 

Ah ! I hear the Ocean waves 
Chanting in their coral caves, 
With a melody that thrills 
To their brethren on the hills, 
Sweetly luring them along 
To commingle in their song. 
Passing from the summit gained 
On to summits unattained. 
Poet ! dost thou never hear 
Voices from a brighter sphere, 
Gently calling thee away 
To the Heavens' eternal day ? 



NOCTURNE 



Moonbeams^ moonbeams everywhere ! 
On the water, in the an^^ 
On the earth and at the door, 
Eound the walls and on the floor ! 
Hence ! ye Spirits of the Night ! 
With your pale, sepulchral light. 
Were the moon not glaring high 
With her never-winking eye, 
We could e'en believe ye were 
Grhosts of sunbeams lingering here. 
Blind am I with blaze of day, 
To more willing eyes, away ! 

Kiss the shadows from their place 
On the sleeping water's face ; 
When the subtle shadows fly 
Make the waters seem the sky. 



NOCTURNE. 81 

Pry into the sparrow^s nest 

At the brood around her breast ; 

O'er the misty meadow creep. 

Charm the little flowers to sleep, 

Make the pm^ple, red and blue, 

Grlisten whitely in the dew, 

Make the white ones still more white ; 

On the rifted oak alight ; 

Tip the church's spire afar 

With the image of a star ; 

Glide into the garden bower, 

Glimmer round the moldering tower ; 

Dip into the deepest shade 

Whence the owlet's cry is made ; 

Hang a shroud on aspen tree 

Rustling, swaying fitfully. 

Or to sleeping churchyards hie 

And on spectral marbles lie. 



Endless watch have I to keep. 
Her sweet eyes are hushed in sleep. 
Folding like an Eastern rose 
Her sweet soul has found repose ; 



82 NOCTUKNE. 

Speak no more her silent eyes, 
And the rose still folded lies ! 
On a love-wind swift I fly, 
To the shadowy grotto hie : 
There lost Florence I can see 
As she ever seems to me. 
Glowing and serene she stands. 
Parted lips and folded hands, 
Flood of sunlight on her hair 
And her features marbled there ! 
Would those lips one word reply 
E'en its echo could not die ! 
Could one smile those features give 
E'en its shadow sure would live ! 
But she stands forever so. 
In her weird, auroral glow. 
Half of violet, half of snow ; 
Like some statue, brightest one 
In a palace of the Sun ! 

What is Sleep but mental night ? 
Dreams its pale, sepulchral light, 
Ghostly shadows of our Thought 
Strangely on our being wrought ; 



NOCTURNE. 83 



Glimmering o'er our deep repose 
With their false, ideal shows, 
Some in beauty, some in pain, 
All to be dissolved again, 
To chaotic forms away 
At the touch of mental day. 



MUSIC. 



Give me music all the day ! 

Bring to greet tli' advancing morn. 
Brisk to Pleasure's roundelay, 

Trilling pipe or jocund horn ; 
Whispering wind among the trees, 

Carol of contented bird, 
Children laughing as they please, 

Bleat of flock or bell of herd. 

When the burnished noon appears, 

And the snowy cloudlets shine, 
In the wood of thousand years, 

Let me by the brook recline. 
Whilst the glad waves, on their march 

Tinkle round the twisted root, 
Whilst I fill the forest arch 

With the sound of liquid flute. 



MUSIC. 85 

When the torch of daylight fades, 

And the twilight air is still, 
Let me from the shadowy glades 

Hear the lonely whip-poor-will ; 
Whilst sweet Keverie sits remote 

Fixed upon her favorite star, 
And young Love's persuasive note 

Trembles on the light guitar. 

When the moon has climbed the hill, 

Ushering silver evening in. 
Let Devotion's ready skill 

Tune the solemn violin ; 
Let the organ's gradual swell 

Heavenward pour its mighty note. 
And the toll of steepled bell 

O'er the aerial tissue float. 

Thus shall Music all the day 

Lap me in its sweet control, 
And the winds of nature play 

Through th' iEolian harp of soul. 



THE WILD KE-XJNION. 



In the ages which we call benighted^ 

And the Teuton's weird and wondrous land, 
In an upmost story, dimly lighted, 
At a long and narrow wooden stand. 
Darkly stained with Mood, 
The Dissector stood. 
Held a purpled knife within his hand. 

'Twas late, and all his comrades had departed, 

Left him at his table there alone ; 
On the dreamy Student, heavy-hearted. 
Midnight stars in silent wonder shone ; 
From his eyes there came 
Flashes as of flame. 
Born of sorrows to the world unknown. 



THE WILD RE-UNION. 87 

To the churchyard in the moonlit meadow 

Earthly hopes and earthly joys were borne ; 
Stolen to the land of dream and shadow 
From his bleeding heart her heart was torn ; 
She his love allowed. 
But her kinsmen proud 
Had repulsed his gentle suit with scorn. 

Drooped the Lady with her crushed devotion, 

Nourished and concealed the fatal flame, 
When her heart had ceased its sacred motion 
Sister to the angels she became ; 
He, oppressed with grief, 
Sought a faint relief. 
In his studies of the human frame. 

Quietly the youth a corpse uncovered, 
Which the sunken drapery revealed. 
Awful thoughts around him seldom hovered 
Near the dead : his heart had sorrow steeled ; 
Starting with a thrill. 
Stood he then as still 
. As a brook by winter winds congealed. 



88 THE WILD k:e-union. 

Lay before him there a beauteous Maiden 

(High-born damsel), stolen from the tomb, 
Deadj but Death had not her features laden 
With his characters of fearful gloom : 
On her roseate face 
Lingered every trace 
Of her girlhood's ejentleness and bloom. 

To her breast the hair huns: down in tresses, 

Curling like the tendrils of the vine ; 
Kipe her lips were for the sweet caresses, 
Flush with love and red as if with wine ; 
Of the purest gold, 
And ethereal mold. 
Finger-rings threw out their fairy shine. 

Were the body and the chamber haunted ? 

For the youth could not remove his gaze ; 
Like a marble shaft he stood, enchanted, 
And his eyes had frenzy in their blaze ; 
The Dissector's room 
Lost to him its gloom — 
Was enveloped in a golden haze. 



THE WILD RE-UNION. 89 

Hung with damask curtains seemed the windows, 
O'er the mantel ticked the household chime, 
Purple flames flared up from out the cinders, 
Like a hed whereto a bride might climb 
Seemed his table, high 
And broad unto his eye. 
Decked with sculpturings of the olden time. 

Lovingly upon the snowy linen 

Lay the form of Beauty he beheld ; 
Mouth and eyes were sparkling, soft and winning: 
In her breast the maiden fervor swelled ; 
Manliest virtues melt. 
He, enamored, felt 
To her heart his throbbing heart impelled. 

" Art thou. Lost One ! come from blissful Eden 

To assuage my bosom's burning pain ? 
Nevermore, rare and radiant Maiden ! 
Shall the furies part our souls again ! 
Heaven will not divide 
Bridegroom from his bride ; 
Angels are singing now our marriage-strain !'' 



90 THE WILD KE-UNION. 

On her neck he fell, oppressed and panting ; 
Blent his lips in madness with her own ; 
Eound his form she locked her arms enchantins:. 
Cold her arms as chiseled out of stone : 
Drooped his tremhling head, 
Sight and hearing fled, 
And his soul dissolved in joys unknown. 

When the sun threw from his burning quiver 

Eay-like arrows, beamiDg far and wide, 
Stark and cold lay out the pallid lover. 
Silent at the lifeless maiden's side ; 
Death was on his brow, 
Heaven had heard his vow. 
And he was not parted from his bride. 



F AEE WELL. 



In vain^ in vain have I essayed 
To speak the word " good bye :" 

It lingers on my lips, sweet maid 1 
And changes to a sigh. 

And there's no need of Reason's wiles 

To break the pensive spell, 
The heart that tells its joy in smiles 

May sigh its sad farewell. 

We met when rivat roses round 

In bridal beauty shone ; 
We part when on the Autumn ground 

The golden leaves are strown. 



92 FAREWELL. 

The rose was like Love's early power, 
So bright, so pure, so brief; 

So sad, so drear our parting hour, 
'Tis like the falling leaf. 

When on my lyre's enchanted string 

I try my tuneful art, 
Two notes from out the chords shall spring 

And vibrate to my heart ! 

A note of joy that e'er we met 

Shall sweetly, briefly swell, 
And leave a note of soft regret 

That e'er we bade farewell. 



THE OEANGE FLOWEE 



With sedulous care, in a Northern Lower, 
I nurtured a beautiful orange flower. 
But it pined for scenes more sweet and fair, 
And it died for love of its native air, 
Like a Maid only lent to earth, not given, 
And early wafted away to heaven. 



And once I cherished a fruitless love. 

For so it was written, they say, above ; 

A love as gentle, as pure, as bright. 

As wonderful as the rays of light ; 

In happier hearts it might bloom and blow, 

But it withered and died in my heart of snow. 



LINES TO A YOUNG FEIEND. 



In every material thing which we see 

Is soraething ethereal not to be seen ; 
There are Nymphs in the water and Sylphs in 
the tree. 
And summer-night Fairies that dance on the 
green. 

The caskets thus sealed open not to our call, 
Nor give to our yearnings their mysteries uj), 

Yet spiritual essences live in them all, 
Like dew in the flower, like wine in the cup. 

The rose as it blossoms, the star as it shines. 
The magic of music, the graces of youth, 

Aurora and spring-times, are tokens and signs 
Of the presence of Angels of Beauty and Truth. 



LINES TO A YOUNG FKIEND. 95 

Whilst in the affections that gladden us here 
And lead us serenely to pleasures above, 

In charity's sigh, and in pity's sweet tear, 
Are the best of the Angels, the Angels of Love. 

Thou ! to whose Spirit these lines are addressed, 
Whom Nature has dowered with all that she 
could. 
May thine outer adornment be inwardly blest, 
And the Beautiful prove but a shrine for the 
Good ! 



THE KOYING HEAET 



My Heart was a rover 
And lived like the Bee^ 

"Until it was Lover^ 
Adored one ! to thee. 

It sipped every blossom 
The gardens all o'er, 

But ah ! from thy bosom 
It wanders no more. 

Elate with its fleetness 
It spread the gay wing, 

And gathered the sweetness 
From every bright thing. 



THE KOVING HEART. 97 

But vain the endeavor 

To exhaust thee of thine, 
So thou holdest forever - 

This wild heart of mine. 
5 



LOVE ME ALOISE. 



The mildew has blighted the blossonij 

Misfortunes have come like the tide, 
And all the false friends of my bosom 

Have fled in distrust from my side ; 
Sweet girl ! whom I love so sincerely, 

Come, bend your bright eyes on ray own, 
And with accents I treasure so dearly 

say you will love me alone. 

I vowed, and I thought they believed me. 
They vowed, and I swore to their truth ; 

How many, alas ! have deceived me, 
And broken the pledges of youth ! 



LOVE ME ALONE 99 

But, Love ! your caresses can make me 
Forget every pang I have known. 

And I care not what others forsake me 
If you will but love me alone. 

Though Hope on the brink of perdition 

Stands palsied in silent affright, 
Though the star of my early ambition 

May sink in the shadow^s of night ; 
Life's Sun will continue to shine, Love ! 

As bright as it ever has shone, 
For you'll bend your sweet eyes upon mine, Love ! 

And say that you love me alone. 



LOYE^S THE ONLY TREASUEE. 



With many passions^ great and small, 

We restless souls are living, 
But Love's the sv^eetest of them all 

In getting or in giving : 
For prior both in time and worth 

This sacred flame was given ; 
All others have been born on earth, 
But Love is part of heaven. 

Love me, love me, more and more, 

Love me without measure. 
Kiss me, kiss me, o'er and o'er. 
Love's the only treasure ! 

The star of Fame shines bright above, 

To many eyes resplendent. 
But in our skies the star of Love 

Supremely is ascendant ; 



love's the only treasure. 101 

For Fame's false light will disappear 

When you approach it nearer. 
But penetrate to Love's sweet sjjhere 
And it will shine the dearer ! 

Love me, love me, more and more, 

Love me without measure, 
Kiss me, kiss me, o'er and o'er, 
Love's the only treasure ! 

Then as to Gold, much worshiped . Grold ! 

Let sordid spirits prize it ! 
Since Love is neither bought nor sold 

We freely can despise it. 
For what is Grold to Love like this ? 

Correctly to appraise it, 
A single smile, a single kiss. 
Entirely outweighs it ! 

Love me, love me, more and more, 

Love me without measure. 
Kiss me, kiss me, o'er and o'er, 
Love's the only treasure ! 

What envy, folly and distrust, 
Surround the slaves of Fashion ! 



102 love's the only teeasuke. 

We would regard tliem with, die^just 

If 't were not for compassion. 
Their love is but tiie love of power. 

Of jolacej or jeweled splendor ; 
But true Love is a sacred flower, 
As modest as 'tis tender. 

Love me, love me, more and more, 

Love me without measure. 
Kiss me, kiss me, o'er and o'er, 
Love's the only treasure ! 

Whene'er you join in Pleasure's chase, 

Eemember that to-morrow 
The rainbow smiles upon your face 

May melt in tears of sorrow ; 
For every Pleasure has a sting. 
And you are sure to find it. 
Except sweet Love, the only thing 
That leaves no pain behind it. 

Love me, love me, more and more, 

Love me without measure. 
Kiss me, kiss me, o'er and o'er, 
Love's the only treasure ! 



OLD AUNT HANNAH. 



Let 's wait a little longer, Tom ! 

Before we westward go ; 
Let's wait for old Aunt Hannah's sa-lre, 

'T would break her heart, I know. 
Look at her in her corner there, 

Her head is white as snow, 
The last leaf of the good old tree — 

We can not leave her so ! 

In this old mansion was she born, 
Her joys and griefs were here : 

How well she loved and nursed us all 
Through many a changing year ! 



104 OLD AUNT HANNAH. 

See how she's smiling at the fire 
And whispering something low ! 

She 's thinking of our Christmas times, 
0; long and long ago ! 



Beside yon crumbling garden wall, 

Our gallant father lies, 
Our good, old mother at his side — 

Aunt Hannah closed their eyes ! 
She was the playmate of them both, 

Some fifty years a^o — 
To leave those dear old graves behind 

'T would break her heart, I know. 



When the old soldier parceled out 

His treasures, great and small. 
Aunt Hannah he would give to none, 

He gave her to us all. 
We laid his good sword on his breast, 

For he had charged us so — 
Whilst old Aunt Hannah knelt in tears — 

Ah ! Tom ! we can not go ! 



OLD AUNT HANNAH. 105 

Her failing sands will soon be out^ 

The kindly angel come, 
And lead the good, old, faithful soul 

To our great Master's home. 
And when weVe marked her simple grave, 

And dropped a tear or so, 
We '11 urn the ashes of the past, 

And westward gaily go ! 



MY VALENTINE. 



Now all the Birds in every grove 
Devote their little lives to love, 
But all their loves are naught to mine, 
Since thou wilt be my Valentine ! 

With fairy speed the rosy Hours 
Will bring the happy month of flowers, 
On pleasure's bright, electric line. 
Since thou art now my Valentine ! 

The summer trees in glen and glade 
Will cast a soft, Elysian shade. 
And with their fruitful arms entwine 
Our evening bower, my Valentine ! 



MY VALENTINE. 107 

When leaves autumnal fade and fall, 
And pensive fancies come to all, 
I, I alone will not repine, 
For thou wilt be my Valentine ! 

Let Winter winds in fury blow, 
Wrap all the world in shroud of snow, 
Yet bright my mental sun shall shine. 
For thou wilt be my Valentine ! 

When changeful Birds in other groves 
Attune their vows to other loves, 
Unchanging I will cling to mine. 
For thou wilt be my Valentine ! 



KISSES. 



"0 Kiss me and go/' 

Said the maid of my heart, 
And proffered her lip 

As a hint to depart — 
" The midnight approaches, 

My Mother will know, 
My kindest and dearest ! 

kiss me and go." 

She gave me the blessing 

In such a sweet way, 
The thrill of its pleasure 

Enticed me to stay. 
So we kissed till the morning, 

Came in with its glow. 
For she said every moment, 

" kiss me and go !" 



'TWAS LIKE A SILYEE BUGLE. 



He was a handsome stranger 

When first I heard him speak ; 
But Love — it throbbed into my heart. 

And blushed into my cheek. 
His words were few and simple, 
Nor were they meant for me : 
But oh ! the tone — it was the soul 
Of love and melody ! 

'T was like a silver buo;le ! 

The sweetest night in June, 
A silver bugle's serenade, 

Beneath the silver moon ; 
When lovers' evenings come so late, 
. And morning comes — so soon ! 

When he confessed his passion, 
And all my maiden fears 



110 'twas like a silvek bugle, 

Dissolved at once in perfect love. 

Though only told in tears ; 
His words were blent with kisses 

And few as they could he, 
But oh ! the tone — it was the soul 
Of love and melody ! 

'T was like a silver bugle ! 

The sweetest night in June, 
A silver bugle's serenade 

Beneath the silver moon ; 
When lovers' evenings come so late, 
And morning comes — so soon ! 

And now I am a mother, 

With many cares beside, 
I feel as happy and as young 

As when I was a bride ; 
For when he takes at evening 

The baby on his knee, 
He speaks the words of tenderness 

Which first he spoke to me ; 
0, like a silver bugle ! 

The sweetest night in June, 



'twas like a silver bugle. 11] 

A silver bugle's serenade 

Beneath the silver moon ; 
When lovers' evenings come so late, 

And morninof comes — so soon ! 



LOVE IS OMNIPOTENT! 



SuMMER-briglit Beauty ! 

Proud as thou art, 
Love is omnipotent, 

Look to thy heart ! 

Lo ! in the woodlands, 

Branches above 
Bend to the warblers. 

Thrilling with Love. 

And in the gardens 
Love is at play ; 

Butterflies twinkle 
Sportively gay. 



LOVE IS OMNIPOTENT. 113 

Koses their sweetness 

Give to the bee ; 
Lovers are kissing 

Under the tree. 

Call not the breezes 

Spiritless things, 
Sweet is the music 

Borne on their wings^ 

Gathered in countries 

Fairer than ours, 
Given in whispers 

To the young flowers. 

When the May-blossoms 

Sweeten the ah ; 
When the dew-diamonds 

Silver the hair ; 

When the pure starlight 

Beckons above, 
And the light lattice 

Opens to love : 



114 LOVE IS OMNIPOTENT 

Summer-bright Beauty 
Proud as thou art, 

Love is omnipotent, 
Look to thy heart ! 



aOOD-NiaHT. 



Good-night ! the clock has struck eleven, 
Oh ! that to Time no tongue were given. 
No sign to part my soul from thee ; 
Good-night ! — but wilt thou dream of me ? 



Good-night ! the midnight hour has come, 
And the last loiterer hastens home ! 
Go, take the rest I can not find, 
Good-nio:ht ! — ^but think'st thou Love is blind ? 



Good-night ! the solemn stroke of one 
Booms like a mournful minute gun ; 
No tread disturbs the sleeping street, 
Good-night — but stay, when shall we meet ? 



116 GOOD-NIGHT. 

Good-night ! the bell is numhering two, 
And hark ! the cock too early crew ; 
Good night ! but would it give thee pain 
If morning never came again ? 

Good-night ! alas ! my Love ! 'tis three, 
The envious dawn we soon shall see ; 
But night is coming to my heart, 
Good-night ! — but kiss me ere we part. 



BEAUTIFUL ! DIVINELY GLOWING ! 



Beautiful ! divinely glowing, 

Heart ! my Heart is thy true name 

For from thee a life-blood flowing 
Quickens and supports my frame. 

When in pleasure or devotion 
Thy warm pulses faster move, 

I, obedient to their motion. 

Throb with joy or blush with love. 

When in grief or contemplation 
Thy sweet currents pause or fail, 

Straight in mute ex-animation 
Sink I drooping, cold and pale. 



118 beautiful! divinely glowing! 

Ah ! if Time or Fate should sever 
Us who are no longer twain, 

Heart, my Heart ! no more forever 
Could I love or live again. 



OKLEANNA. 



There never was such beauty, 

Sucli radiant grace as thine, 
There never, never was such love 

Nor such despair as mine. 
The words to breathe my passion 

Have not been coined by man ; 
I do not tell thee what I would. 

But only what I can. 

If tears could e'er have won thee, 

They had not ceased to flow ; — 
If blood — it had been freely spilt, 

long and long ago ! 
I laid upon thine altar 

A gift beyond all price, 
A true heart's worship — tears and blood 

Are no such sacrifice. 



120 OKLEANNA. 

Of all life's blooming promise 

Of hope and peace bereft. 
The only solace of my soul, 

My dreams (sweet dreams 1) are left. 
In dreams I plead my longings, 

And thou dost not reprove ; 
In dreams I press thee to my heart 

And thou dost seem to love. 



would I were an old man 

With few more days to see, 
And thou — my little darling child, 

To prattle on my knee. 
My lot had then been happier 

Than this which now is cast. 
And with thy radiance round my feet 

I had been blest at last. 



never from this j^arting 

We meet on earth again. 
For I should give thee nought but love, 

Keceiving nought but pain. 



OKLEANNA. 121 

Nor let us meet in heaven 

Through ages yet to be ! 
Shouldst thou be still as beautiful, 

And still as cold to me. 

Nay — nay— I could not love thee 

So well unless thou wert 
The mate to my unmated soul, 

The twin heart of my heart. 
Some hateful spell is on thee 

That here thou knowest me not ; 
But we shall meet and love in heaven 

When this is all forgot ! 



UNCLE JEKEY. 



Why^ Jerry! what means all this sadness and fear? 

Here 's your bitteis, man ! why do you cry ? 
Who told you I 'd sell you ? the trader that 's here ? 

By zounds^ sh ! he told you a lie ! 
When I sell the gold ring from my dead mother's 
handj 

Or the sword which my grandfather bore, 
When at Guilford his troopers made such a bold 
stand, 

I will sell you — and not before ! 

Why, don't you remember my face as a boy's, 

When often I sat on your knee. 
Whilst you sang in your rugged, monotonous voice, 

Your foolish old ballads to me ? 



UNCLE JERRY. 123 

I wept at your sad ones and laughed at your gay, 
And made you rejjeat tlieni all o'er ; 

Ah ! when I forget my life's happiest day, 
I will sell you — and not before ! 

You made me the boat which I launched on the 
tide. 

And my traps for the birds in the snow ; 
You led my bay pony, and taught me to ride. 

And half the good things which I know. 
You wept like a child when they sent me to school. 

To be absent for six months or more ; 
When you are a villain, or I am a fool, 

I will sell you — and not before ! 

If poverty's cup I am sentenced to drain, 

I will part with you — last of them all ; 
Your kindness. Old Jerry ! would double my pain. 

And your sorrows embitter my fall. 
If fate or misfortune should cause us to part. 

There's a God will unite us once more ; 
So drink my good health and console your old heart, 

And love me and serve, as before. 



ISA BELLE. 



Sleep^ with rosy arm around thee, 
Now hath bound thee, 

Sleep thee well ! 
Thy dreams I will not waken, 
Thou forlorn, forgot, forsaken 

Isahelle ! 

! my heart is heavy laden. 
Blighted maiden, 

Isahelle ! 
For, though dead to love and duty, 
Thy story and thy beauty 

Have a spell. 



ISABELLE. 125 

All tlie flowers for tliee have faded, 
degraded 

Isabel! e ! 
But th' eternal tliorn is smarting, 
And the pain it is imparting 

Who can tell ? 

Ah ! thy father under roses 
Now reposes 

Deep and well ; 
The grave dug by thine errors, 
Was it watered with thy sorrows, 

Isabelle ? 

See ! thy little sister, playing, 
Laughing, straying, 

A gazelle 
In the sunshine of the meadow, 
Unvisited by thy shadow, 

Isabelle ! 

But a dark eye is thy brother's — • 
And thy mother's, 
Mark it well ! 



126 ISABELLE. 

It is blind with watches keeping, 
It is blind with weeping, weeping, 
Isabelle ! 

It is too late to warn thee, 
And to scorn thee, 

Isabelle ! 
Is not for him who knew thee, 
Ere that which makes him rue thee 

Yet befell. 

sweet slumb.er ! touch her lightly. 
Dreaming brightly, 
" All is well f 
Though the dark ones round her hover, 
And no angels can recover 
Isabelle. 

sweet slumber ! leave her never. 
But for ever 

Fix thy spell ; 
Lie henceforth in sleep enchanted. 
By consoling angels haunted, 

Isabelle ! 



ISABELLE. 127 



Never feel again the aching, 
And heart-breaking 

Of this hell ; 
Nor to retribution waken, 
Thou forlorn, forgot, forsaken, 

Isabelle ! 



THE POET'S DIADEM. 



! Weave the Poet's diadem 
Of all the flowers with those, 

His heart is strangely linked to them — 
The Cypress and the Kose. 

So when some saddening hand of woe 

Shall touch his sj^irit-string, 
The Cypress-leaf may darkly glow 

And shade the child of Spring. 

And soon as smiling pleasure pours 

Her balm upon his grief, 
The Rose may spread her breathing flowers 

And hide the Cypress-leaf. 



THE DKEAM OF THE ROSE 



The moonbeams in a garden bower 
Lie bright on every sleeping flower, 
While Fancy's airy trains disclose 
A vision to the fragrant Rose. 

A radiant Maiden wanders by 

The Charming One to many an eye ; 

The Rose's wish is unexprest, 

But still she takes it to her breast. 

It feeds on Beauty's golden smile 
Entranced in love, and thinks the Avhile, 
That nestled to her glowing heart. 
No tint can fade, no bloom depart. 



130 THE DEEAM OF THE ROSE. 

But see ! the breeze too roughly blows, 
Shakes the frail leaves and wakes the Kose ; 
Yet not alone, sweet Flower ! repine, 
My own false dreams resemble thine ! 



THOSE HAZEL EYES. 



Those hazel eyes, those hazel eyes ! 
In vain my restless spirit tries 

To banish from my sight ; 
They gild my reveries with their beams, 
They dance and sparkle in my dreams, 

They haunt me day and night. 

Less radiant is the glance of morn 
When night's dim veil is first withdrawn, 

No softer is the dove ; 
To witching smiles those eyes give birth, 
And some are full of gentle mirth. 

And some of gentler love. 



132 THOSE HAZEL EYES. 

Sage Prudence spied the tempting snare 
And whispered to my heart, " beware !"- 

But I delayed my flight, 
Until the rays like links combined, 
And round my fettered heart entwined 

A chain of rosy light. 

Should I obey ambition's call, 

And burst this strange, delicious thrall. 

The world would call it wise ; 
But Love has dearer joys for me. 
And more than all the world I see 

In those sweet hazel eyes ! 



THE POET'S SONGS. 



The Poet sang one summer morn, 

A winding streamlet loj, 
A lay of love and fancy born, 
And as the waters sparkled on, 
They made a sweet reply, 
They made a sweet reply. 

The Poet sang at mid-day tide. 
Beneath the branches high, 
And little birds on every side 
To emulate his music vied, 
And made a sweet reply. 
And made a sweet reply. 



134 THE poet's songs. 

The Poet sang at twiliglit hour 

Beneath the rosy sky ; 
The evening breeze o'er field and flower 
Crept like an unseen fairy power, 
And made a sweet reply, 
And made a sweet reply. 

The Poet sang with warmer tone 
Beneath young Laura's eye ; 
And when he clasped her radiant zone, 
And wooed the girl to be his own, 
She made a sweet reply, 
She made a sweet reply. 



THE STREAMLET^S WAENINQ. 



! HASTEN, pretty Streamlet I 

! hasten to the Sea, 
Nor dally in this meadow, 

Elysian though it be. 

The summer months are coming, 
The sun will rise in wrath. 

And pour his burning arrows 
Upon thy winding path. 

The sands will yawn to take thee, 
Thy rocks will all be dry ; 

Thy waves no more will whisper 
To the flowerets blooming by. 

Delay not in this meadow, 
Elysian though it be ; 



136 THE STREAM let's WARNIN 

But hasten^ pretty Streamlet ! 
hasten to the Sea ! 

.1 can not leave this meadow, 

Nor hasten to the Sea ; 

I can not leave this meadow 

With its April witchery. 

For the sun is bright and gentle, 
His kiss is sweet and warm, 

And he mirrors in my bosom, 
The glory of his form. 

Upon my banks so mossy 
The Koses have their seat — 

The Koses and the Lillies — 
And I sparkle at their feet. 

I sing to them so softly 

They bend and smile to me ; 

0, I can not leave this meadow 
And hasten to the Sea ; 

I can never leave this meadow 
With its April witchery. 



G. 



^^WHEN LOVELY MAKY/* 



When lovely Mary gave her word 
To meet me by the walnut tree, 

Unless the rain at midnight poured, 
Unless " Mamma" awake should bg. : 

My heart with pleasure melted o'er, 
And every pleasing sense was moved, 

I felt I never knew before 

How much I loved and was beloved. 

When lovely Mary kept her word 
And met me by the waliiut tree, 

The clouds were gone, the moonlight poured 
Its favoring smile on her and me : 



138 ^'WHEN LOVELY MARY." 

And when I kissed her o'er and o'er, 
And every bar from bhss removed, 

I knew I never felt before 

How much I loved and was beloved. 



I D L 1 N E. 



The only Angel e'er allowed 
To break the ever-during cloud 
Which separates our earth from heaven, 
(Alas ! that e'er such boon was given !) 
Came as a Maiden, pure and bright, 
A figure of embodied light. 
With beauty matchless and serene, 
Whom loving men called Idoline. 



^t> 



She seemed the life-blood of my heart. 
And of my soul the central part, 
For from her sphere the current flowed 
To which my very life I owed : 



140 I D O L I N E . 

Did her glad pulses faster move, 

I warmed with joy or blushed with love ; 

Did her sweet motions pause or fail. 

Then sank I, drooping, cold and pale.; 

She was the all-bestowing Sun, 

And I a form she shined upon. 

But ah ! what change has Fate decreed ! 

Just as I thought Hope's glorious seed 

To flower and fruit would soon expand, 

Death's Angel touched her with his wand. 

To fields and palaces of light 

Her Spirit took returning flight ; 

The empty tenement of mind 

For human tears was left behind, 

More beautiful in deathly grace 

Than all the animated race. 

Where men her radiant form entombed 

A golden willow sprang and bloomed, 

In which a soft ^olian tone 

Forever made melodious moan ; 

And orient birds, ne'er seen before, 

Came from some undiscovered shore. 

And sang what men shall hear no more. 



I D L I N E . 1 41 

From angel tear-drops on the ground 
A thousand flowers grew up around, 
A thousand flowers to us unknown, 
With shapes and colors of then* own, 
As if a rainbow fell from heaven, 
Into a thousand fragments riven. 
Perhaps their germs were wafted far 
On ether's wave from evening star ; 
Perhaps there came, instead of worm, 
A vital essence from her form, 
Which wakened the compliant sod 
To life and beauty born of God. 



For days, for weeks, alone and mute, 
With sense mysteriously acute, 
I heard the sounds of other spheres, 
Too far remote for human ears. 
And saw by strange, magnetic light 
Things unrevealed to human sight ! 
But all the myriad forms that fill 
The theater of nature's skill. 
In their interior splendor seen 
Bore trace of the Seraph Idoline. 



142 I D O L I N E . 

Time touched with his oblivious breath 
The memory of her hfe and death, 
And half my sorrows did allay 
By taking half my joys away ; 
But I would gladly feel the pain 
To have the joy recalled again. 

Sometimes I've fancied that there came 
Her accents calling on my name 
From golden valleys glimmering far 
Beneath sweet twilight's pendent star ; 
Sometimes I 've felt, at inorning hour, 
Such wondrous, renovated power. 
So calm and strong, so free and bright. 
So girdled with prophetic light, 
That I could vow my soul had been 
In dreams with the Seraph Idoline. 



FIDELE. 



FiDELE ! erring one ! what claim 

Faithless ! hast thou to that name ? 

Fidel^ ! faithful only to thy shame ! 

Poor alien from thy home and kin ! 

With that alluring smile of sin, 

"Which mocksj but can not hide the hell within 

Thou wanderest down the world forlorn, 

Its guilty plaything and its scorn. 

Thy soul a flower impaled upon a thorn. 

When Eden lost thou dost recall. 

Are cherub faces on its wall. 

Or flaming swords that banish and appal ? 



144 F I D E L E . 

Fidel^, see ! through years of woe, 

That little group — how bright they glow ! 

The old sweet home, the shaded portico, 

Thy smiling mother, soft and fair. 

Thy fairy self with golden hair. 

And that pale boy, love-lost and statued there ! 

I wonder what thy thoughts may be ! 

Thy mother's thoughts are prayers for thee ; 

And mine are tears ! What else is left to me ? 



DESEETED, 



November's breath has chilled the morn, 
And Winter's gathering scowl I see ; 

The birds have fled the leafless thorn, 
As my young joys have fled from me. 

The flowers of Spring revive again, 
When Winter's dreary night is o'er ; 

But ah ! ye cheer my heart in vain ! 
The flowers of hope will bloom no more. 

mother ! mother ! fare thee well ! 

Forgive my perjured love for this ; 
Lay on my heart an immortelle, 

And seal mine eyelids with a kiss ! 



THE DESECRATED CHAPEL, 



A SWEDISH LEGEND 



A CHAPEL by the Baltic shore 
Stood on a knoll of green, 

Ear out at sea, a league or more, 
Its gilded spire was seen. 

But wicked Barons of the land 
Drove forth the saintly priest, 

And met upon that quiet strand 
To keep unbridled feast. 

■ They tore the pictures from the wall, 
They broke the sacred spire, 
The altar and the benches all 
To feed th' unholy fire. 



THE DESECRATED CHAPEL. 147 

They rode the ring, the spear they sped, 
They broke the glittering lance, 

They quaffed the wine and gaily led 
Their ladies to the dance. 

But while they stunned the waning night 

With sound of boisterous glee, 
A storm arose, with hoarded might, 

And burst upon the sea. 

The sea forsook its ancient path, 

And rolled upon the shore. 
It lashed the sloping hills in wrath. 

And inland sent its roar. 

And when the waves sank to their place, 

Of chapel on the green. 
Of lords or ladies, not a trace 

Was longer to be seen. 

But still they say sometimes a light 

Gleams upward from the sea ; 
The Baltic sailor hears at night, 

Mysterious melody. 



148 THE DESECEATED CHAPEL. 

He gazes down the placid deep 

Enchanted at his oar, 
But lo ! the sky's hespangled steep 

Is mirrored there no more. 

The knoll is seen, the torches glance, 

The chapel reappears ; 
Fair ladies tricked for merry dance, 

And knights with golden spurs. 

They kneel upon the emerald sward, 
And heavenward fix their eyes. 

Whilst " misereres" to the Lord 
In solemn chant arise. 

So weirdly from the buried shore 
Gleams up the fearful light. 

The Baltic sailor bends his oar. 
And flies the phantom sight. 



LOYE IK SEAKCH OF TKUTH 

AN ALLEGOEY. 



When Love was sovereign Queen alone, 
And had no partner to lier throne, 
She sought one day a great magician 
Kenowned for power and erudition, 
Bearing a portrait in her hand. 
And softly gave her high command : 
"This is my Bridegroom, only he — 
The child was lost in infancy, 
Of hirth divine, his name is Truth, 
And I have come to seek the youth. 
Adjust your mirrors, let me see 
If one who bears the name is he." 



150 LOVE IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. 

The crystal flashes, and behold ! 

A stately figure, stern and old, 

A man majestic, solemn, slow. 

With lips compressed and eyes a-glow ; 

One hand upon a globe at play, 

"While books and papers round him lay : 

'T was History's great self she saw. 

And Love regarded him with awe ; 

But still her quick, discerning eye, 

No semblance to the boy could spy ; 

She shook her head ; his claim was banished. 

And straight the great . impostor vanished. 

A second glance revealed to view 
A face which more attractive grew ; 
A high-browed, melancholy man. 
Across whose features, lean and wan. 
Great thoughts like coruscations ran. 
It was Philosophy, from toil and din 
Abstracted to his world within. 
Love gazed, and readily detected 
Some features of the Child reflected. 
But much too faintly to proclaim 
That Truth and he could be the same. 



LOVE IN SEARCH OF TRUTH. 151 

Next sage Theology appeared, 

From high devotions thus unsphered. 

His face serene, his eye upturned, 

A halo round his forehead burned. 

One hand upon his heart was laid. 

The other pointed o'er his head. 

Love looked with joy — " It is his brother ! 

One outline is so like the other ; 

But still, if narrowly you scan. 

This child could never make such man ; 

Here is too much of heavenly birth 

To be so shadowed, e'en on earth !" 

Again her notice is invited, 

A glorious Youth she sees, delighted, 

With pencil in his glowing hand. 

Whilst radiant statues round him stand, 

And music swells in soft vibrations : 

'T is Art amid his own creations. 

Love hastened gladly to compare 

Pictures so beautiful and rar-e, 

For twins they were at least by nature, 

Identical save in one feature ; 



152 LOVE IN SEAECH OF TRUTH. 

Art's eye was blacker than the raven, 
While Truth's was brightly blue as heaven. 
The scenery passed dissolving by, 
And Love dismissed it with a sigh. 

" No more. Magician ? What — no more ? 
Hast thou exhausted here thy lore ?'' 
" None claiming to be Truth remains 
But a poor Youth, not worth your pains ; 
An idle, vain, fantastic creature, 
The freak and bunglework of Nature : 
A harmless man of solitude, 
Eambling in Spring-time through the wood. 
In needless tears or silly gladness, 
Ehyming and singing in his madness — " 
" Show me his image," Love replied — 
" If he be Truth — I am his Bride." 

Once more the magic mirror turned, 
'T was Poesy that Love discerned ; 
Seated serenely in a nook. 
Studying a flower as 't were a book ; 
A spirit child-like and demure. 
Bright as the diamond and as pure. 



LOVE IN SEAECH OF TRUTH. 153 

Love eyed the pictures — that and this. 

And gave both this and that a kiss : 

" Here is the bud and there the blossom, 

The lord both of my throne and bosom ! 

Magician, haste ! the tidings spread, 

For Truth is found and Love will v^ed !" 



ONE OF MAEION'S MEN. 



Good people of tlie Poor-house ! 

Come round me at my call ; 
By night or day, at work or play, 

I Ve lived in peace with all ; 
And now death lies upon mine eyes, — 

The owl hoots in the glen — 
I '11 tell unhidden what long I Ve hidden, 

I was one of Marion's men ! 

Yes ! yes ! the poor old pauper 
Once wore with youthful pride. 

An epaulet (I keep it yet !) 
And a saher at his side. 



ONE OF MARION'S MEN. 15/) 



I 've rode all night, in chase or flight 
I 've rode all day — and then 

In saddle away ! till another day, 
The best of Marion's men ! 



Away, in scour and scurry ! 

O'er hills and swamps away ! 
For liquor and ladies, " the ever-readies," 

And readier for the fray ! 
! you have heard how we did beard 

The lion in his den ! 
Or glide from sight like ghosts of night — 

Hurrah for Marion's men ! 



Ah ! many a gallant comrade 

Was laid where he did fall, 
And some, in woods and solitudes, 

Were never buried at all — 
But better far the fate of war, 

A glorious death ! and then — 
No bread to crave, no pauper's grave 

For one of Marion's men ! 



156 ONE OF MARION'S MEN. 

I here confess my follies, 

I drank and played too fast ! 
'T was frolic living and reckless giving 

Tliat brought me here at last. 
But if this hour I had the power 

I 'd make a feast — and then 
You'd drink aright, a long good-night 

To one of Marion's men ! 



I went to prayers and preachings 

But few times in my life : 
Ho ! ho ! the jokes on your Christian folks, 

Who live in trouble and strife ! 
God has control of my poor soul. 

He gave it and takes again — 
Saint Peter's gate will open straight 

To one of Marion's men ! 



To all whom I have injured 
Would I could make amends ! 

The world with me did ne'er agree, 
But we will part good friends ! 



ONE OF MARION'S MEN. 157 

Let some one make, for pity's sake ! 

A head-board ; chalk it then 
In my behalf, with this epitaph, 

"He was one of Marion's men \" 



CIKCE FOR CALYPSO. 



He plied his shining oars 

Athwart the placid sea, 
And scanned the swiftly passing shores 

To Y/indward and to lee : 
For pleasure's magic realm he sought, 

Calypso's ha23py isle ; 
In sweet Calypso's arms he thought 

To live and love awhile. 

His bark flew o'er the sea, 

His soul flew o'er the air ; 
For whilst his oars dipped fast and free 

He dreamed that he was there. 



CIRCE FOR CALYPSO. 



159 



brightly rose the iDurple hills, 
sweetly shone the vale, 

gaily chimed the rippling rills, 
softly sighed the gale. 



Serenely, faintly blew 

The silver bugle horn 1 
His soul the signal music knew 

And pressed in madness on. 
Calypso's palace gleamed afar. 

Like sunset o'er the sea: 
Long time he gazed entranced — ^but ah ! 

Alas ! where was he ? 



The vision disappeared 

Like melting dream away ; 
In darkening waters deep ensphered 

An isle before him lay ; 
A vast and melancholy reach 

Of wild unbroken woods ; 
Uncheered by sound of human speech 

Its shadowy solitudes. 



160 CIRCE FOR CALYPSO. 

Fast fell the fearful night 

Upon his quaking heart ; 
He saw the weird, phosphoric light 

Where Circe dwelt apart ; 
Whilst growled and roared from cave and den 

The bears, the dogs, the swine, 
The snakes, the wolves — which once were men, 

And drank of Circe's wine. 



RELIGIOUS INSPIRATION FROM NATURE. 



Wandering at ease one quiet Sabbath morn, 
I cared not whither, in the forest shades, 
List'ning the spirit-song which Nature sings, 
I met a Maiden, rambling like myself, 
Full of sweet morning fancies and hope-dreams. 
When our glad eyes each caught the other's light, 
Some pleasing instinct taught us that we were 
Each for the other formed. I asked her not 
Whether she were a Dryad of the wood, 
New extricated from her leafy thrall, 
Or a bright Naiad from some shining brook 
Which fondly chid her for his lonely hours, 
And wept her long delay. We found a seat 



162 INSPIRATION FEOM NATURE. 

Fragrant and soft upon the cool green grass 
That velveted the bosom of the wood. 
Young birds with azure wings lit on the trees, 
Whose new-leaved branches trembled over head, 
And sang their loves. Across the welkin blue, 
Flecked here and there with islands of bright cloud, 
Shining Apollo drove his golden prow, 
Attended by the swift and silent Hours. 
We heeded not their flying — all entranced 
In the kind interchange of genial thought ; 
Nor could my will restrain the tender words 
That live on poets' lips and long to pass 
Low-whispered into Beauty's listening ear. 

Ye Churchmen ! who delight in crowded aisles 
And the loud chanting of the pompous choir. 
Chide as ye choose ! More dear to me the sky 
With silver- tinted clouds, the woodland-voice. 
The many beautiful forms of forest-life. 
The intercourse of hajopy human hearts. 
And more accordant to the Sabbath-light, 
And to the Spirit of Eternal Love 
Which lives and thinks and moves in every things 
Than all the dim religious shows of Art ! 



INSPIRATION FROM NATURE. 163 

We parted not until the evening star 

Displayed his glittering shaft, at which bright sign 

The sweet Egeria of my yearning soul 

Withdrew her hand from mine, and glided through, 

Swift as an irrecoverable dream. 

The forest's gathering shades. The rose she plucked 

From out her bright brown hair and gave to me 

Dissolved in air, and in its place the light 

Of inextinguishable faith and love 

Sank deep into my heart. The day's delight 

Had luird my spirit to so sweet a calm. 

That as the twilight cheered my homeward way, 

I heard, or plausive fancy deemed she heard. 

The Angel-choirs far chanting in the West 

From sapphire palaces their Evening Hymn. 



TKANSCENDENTALISM. 



Heart ! my Heart, why such a pining 
For some Chosen Thing to love ? 

Is not boundless Beauty shining 
On thee, round thee, and above ? 

Can'st thou not in saintly vision 

Blend thee with the Perfect Whole ? 

Lose thyself in joy Elysian 
With the Universal Soul ? 

Bow thee to Ideal Duty, 

WorshijD at no sensual shrine. 

Corporate thyself with Beauty, 
So eternal, so divine. 



TRANSCENDENTALISM. 165 

Be a Feeler, not a Doer, 

Passive yield to Nature's tide, 
Be to morning stars a wooer, 

Take sweet April for thy bride. 

Never from sucli cold refining 

Living, lasting bliss can spring, 
And my Heart, my Heart is pining, 

For some One, some Chosen Thing ! 



THE OLD MUSICIAN. 



Haggard and pale the desolate old man 
Lay in the sunshine of the market place 
One beauteous day in summer. 

That spot had been his only home for years^ 
And the sweet faces of the friendly stars 
His only night companions. 

People were gathering curiously around, 
For a strange light spread o'er the beggar's face- 
Death's solemn inspiration. 

'' Goldoni ! Pupil of my better days. 
Bring hither now the ancient violin 

Wherewith you ravish Naples, 



THE OLD MUSICIAN. 167 

" For I believe the spirit of my youth 
Is mantling o'er me with the warmth and light 
And glory of the morning." 



OJ 



He passed the bow across the trembling string 
And after some premonitory tears 
Began a plaintive measure. 

The concentrated sorrows of his life 
Floated upon the soft Italian air 
In tender undulations. 

He played — with eyes serenely turned to heaven^ 
Goldoni kneeling silent at his feet^ 

And the good people weeping. 

He paused and smiled — the silver cord was loosed ! 
And the weird voices of his breaking heart 
Died trembling into silence. 

His face kept smiling whilst the angel-troop 
Which took the beggar from the rich man's gate 
Bore off his risen spirit. 



168 THE OLD MUSICIAN. 

Goldoni, weeping o'er the old's man's neck, 
Heard from the opening doors of heaven afar 
Such holy strains of music, 

He never drew an earthly note again, 
But consecrated his immortal powers 
To spiritual devotion. 



THE IDIOT NEGKO. 



How darker than the pall of common night 
Is man's estate when from his clouded soul 
The inner sunlight fades away ! How drear 
And like a silent tomb is that dark mind 
Which Keason leaves and yet which Madness spares ! 
I knew an idiot Negro in my youth, 
A weak old man, half bent, and sad, and slow, 
With crisped hair as hoar as morning frost. 
He had been happier in his early day ; 
Quick of perception, stout of heart and limb ; 
But changes came, and waning by degrees 
The taper of the mind went out at length, 
And left its chambers in Cimmerian gloom. 
With trembling hand upon his knotted staff 



170 THE IDIOT NEGRO. 

So little seemed he like a living thing 
That the dull ox removed not from his path 
As he came toiling by. An humble look^ 
The stamp of long obedience, and a smile 
Which had no meaning in its vacancy, 
Made every feeling passer pause and sigh. 
His master tasked him with no daily toil, 
But to the woods and to the pleasant hills 
He wandered forth, on no particular course. 
But like a ship whose pilot leaves the helm, 
Drifting away as any wind may choose. 

Freedom, the sweet consoler, came too late ; 
He knew her not. Unnoticed circled round 
The sights and sounds and motions manifold 
Of this all-vital world. Upon gray stones, 
And by decaying trunks of olden trees. 
He leaned downcast like an insensate thing, 
Or gathered to his hat, with scrupulous care 
And muttered words, the leaves about his feet. 
The ant was busy in her earthen cell ; 
The bee hummed by on his unwearied wing ; 
The nodding blue-jay twittered as she sought 
The reeking earth-worm for her callow brood ; 



THE IDIOT NEGRO. 171 

The speckled fish, pursuant of his prey, 
Clove the bright waters with his silver fin ; 
The sleek-haired mole, toiling invisible, 
Hoarded the acorns in his burrowed home ; 
All things, the meanest even, were instinct 
With life and liberty, with hope and love, 
Save him who sat alone, a broken link. 
Fallen useless from the mighty chain of things. 

Thus long he lived, for busied with thd crowd 

Of loftier objects for his tireless dart, • 

Death marked him not. And when the tyrant 

came 
The victim shrank not from his chilling grasp. 
But calm, as a blind man who stands unmoved 
Upon the dreadful brink of an abyss. 
Could not distinguish his stern enemy 
From a familiar friend. 'T was but a step 
From his dark state of being to the grave. 

Few now can show his lowly resting place. 
The wild grass overgrew th' unchiseled stone. 
The briar unchecked has interlocked her thorns 
Around the head-piece, and th' approaching tread 



172 THE IDIOT NEGRO. 

Might make the coward hare scud from her form 
And fright the wood-thrush in her matted nest ; 
But there will come a time, a blessed time, 
When the unaltered soul which here we saw 
Like an enchanted statue, shall awake 
As from a long, long sleep without a dream. 



THE SOUTHEEN MAN. 



Is the festive banquet spread ? 
Shall merry Bacchus reign ? 
Is it whisky pale or brandy red ; 
Is it claret or champagne ? 
Clink your glasses 0' 
Tipple it while you can ; 
But boys ! I'm thinking, for social drinking, 
There's none like the Southern man ! 

Is it a friend who needs 

The help of words or gold ? 
Is it a sight of woe that pleads. 

Or a tale of sorrow told ? 



174 THESOUTHEKN MAN. 

Hearts and purses wide ! 
Scatter whatever you can ; 
But for generous living and clieerful giving, 
There's none like the Southern man ! 



Is it the fiddle you hear ? 

The ball-room in a glow ; 
With the handsome lads and ladies dear, 
Smiling all in a row ? 
Call the figures loud ! 
Trip it light as you can ; 
But for graceful dancing, till morn advancing. 
There's none like the Southern man I 



Is it a fight on hand ? 

For sacred cause or none — 
For a silly word or Fatherland ? 
With a dozen foes or one ? 
Clear the ring, my boys ! 
Battle it while you can ; 
But for gallant bearing and reckless daring, 
There's none like the Southern man ! 



THE SOUTHERN MAN. 175 

Is it a lass to woo ? 

Some idol to adore — 
Amongst the black eyes or the blue, 
The rich belles or the poor ? 
Ladies ! mark my words, 
And profit if e'er you can : 
For ardent loving and faithful proving, 
There 's none like the Southern man ! 



Is it the just and right ? 

Is it the good and true ? 
Aid it and bless it with all your might, 
Whether it's old or new. 
Give it heart and hand ! 
Uphold it the best you can : 
But for honest dealing and true, good feeling. 
There 's none like the Southern man ! 



THE MINE. 



I TKEAD a dark and cheerless mine, 

Unnumbered feet below, 
Where April mornings never shine, 

And violets never grow. 

But far above, as fancy deems. 

Commingled sounds I hear. 
Music of birds, and winds, and streams. 

Falls faintly on my ear. 

Such is our home, this dreary earth 

To our dark natures given. 
But sounds of an immortal birth 

Come to our souls from heaven. 



SUNSHINE. 



There lies the sunshine on my floor, 
So soft, so pure, so bright ! 

A message from the Spring out-door, 
A fragment of its light, 

To woo me from my dreary mood. 

And call me forth to field and wood. 



Shine on, sweet Light ! I can not steal 
To forests, streams and bowers 

As in my boyhood, for I feel 
The load of painful hours ; 

But I accept thy golden cheer, 

And smile amid my sorrows here. 



178 SUNSHINE. 

'Tis thus into our hearts from heaven 
Comes down the ideal raj, 

By guardian spirits kindly given, 
A love-beam on our way, 

A solace for our mortal cares, 

Prophetic of celestial spheres. 



^^ALL IS WELL/^ 



When Aurora's hands have spun 
Golden vestures for the sun. 
From the radiant eastern hill 
Voices on the ether thrill. 
Like the Morning Angels crying, 
To the Guards of Night replying 

" All is well," 
And in earthly echoes dying, 

"All is well/' 

In the dusty, burning clime, 
Toiling in the noon of Time, 
Lo ! the fainting reaper hears 
Music from serener spheres, 



180 ^^ALL IS well/' 

Like the ripples of a river, 
Whispering, surging, ceasing never, 

"All is weU,'' 
Surging, whispering on forever, 

'•AH is well/' 

When the broken hues of light 
Fade upon the western height. 
Sacred hymnings from afar 
Float from evening's gentle star. 
Like the Guardian Souls who lead us, 
Calling from the heavenly meadows, 

"All is weU,'' 
Calling to this world of shadows, 

"All is well/' 



THE OLD COUNTKY CHUKCH. 



It was a spot to calm the fretted mind, 
To wean the heart from transitory things 
And turn to heaven. Upon a hill remote, 
Embosomed in a brotherhood of trees, 
The ruined Church appeared. The wooden stile 
Had rotted to its fall, the leaning fence 
Creaked in the wind of summer. Grass had grown 
Across the path and ventured to the door. 
Luxuriant boughs lay on the swagging roof, 
Which, like the face of some old rock, appeared 
Eugged and brown and covered o'er with moss, 
Dripping with moisture. Through the shattered 

panes 
The swallow passed with straw upon her bill. 



182 THE OLD COUNTRY CHURCH. 

Or earth-worm for her young. The prowling poor, 
Or passing emigrants hard by encamped, 
Had broken the shutters for their evening fire. 
The humbler graves, that once were decked with 

flowers, 
The head-boards gone, the footstones all displaced, 
Were sunken deep and full of withered leaves. 
The slender railing which had once inclosed 
The separate family had fallen down 
And let the intruder in. Kankly the weeds 
Overtopped the battered monuments, and hid 
The rural records of forgotten things. 

Such was the spot : and there in autumn time, 

When parting sunshine clad the distant hills 

In all the golden drapery of eve, 

Have I reclined for hours, and unappalled 

By the unmoving specters of the place, 

Silence and Desolation, have called up, 

By sweet imagination's fairy power, 

The long entranced Spirit of the past 

For my companion. Warming Memory 

Kelit the pleasing pictures that for years 



THE OLD COUNTRY CHURCH. 183 

Were latent on the canvas of the soul. 

The vestiges of rank decay were gone, 

And the bright Sabbath brought the eager crowd 

To the old Church again. The rustic vehicles 

Groaned o'er the stony road. Along the fence 

And by the trees the patient horses stood. 

The plain old elder of the flock was there, 

Close to the desk, and lined the ancient psalm ; 

The portly matron in her snowy cap. 

Slyly observant of the pranking boy ; 

The bare-armed infant on the nurse's knee ; 

The buxom girls, unconscious of their charms, 

Or archly imitative of the town ; 

The awkward stripling, whose untutored face 

Betrayed his artless love ; the minister 

With kindly look and gentle word for all, 

Austere and chilling only in his creed. 

I heard the prayer, and the concluding hymn, 

Whose echoes lingered round the jutting eves 

And dipt away into the quiet wood. 

But with the glimmering of the twilight hour 

The spell would break, and the approaching 

shades 
Unpeople the old Church again. 



184 THE OLD COUNTKY CHURCH. 

But still 



Thougli human footstep rarely treads the scene, 
Nature hath left her sounds and colors there, 
And many beautiful forms of forest life 
Surround the spot and evermore maintain 
Inaudible worship of the Deity. 
The birds fulfill their oJBfices of love 
In every nook. The plaining stock-dove coos 
All the bright noon-day from the rustling oak. 
The truant bee and velvet butterfly 
Flit o'er the rugged mounds. From bench to bench 
The cautious spider weaves his filmy snare. 
The enameled serpent by the crumbling step 
Enjoys the sunny beam. In the still night 
The dreary owl and lonely whip-poor-will 
Mourn to each other on the shuddering air. 
The dews come softly to the hoary walls, 
And moonlight sleeps upon the silent floor. 



THE MYSTIC UNION. 



A LIGHT of glory to our feet benighted ! 

A voice of resurrection to the dead ! 
"E'en as the Father to the Son united. 

So shall ye be to Christ your living head." 

What doth it mean ? In these poor hearts of ours 
Can the Omniscient a sojourner be, 

As sunbeams nestle in the souls of flowers, 
Or angels come to sleeping infancy ? 

Ah, yes ! Eejoice, ye contrite broken-hearted ! 

His Holy Presence dissipates your sin ; 
Eemember how the raging storm departed 

From the lone ship when Jesus stept therein. 



186 THE MYSTIC UNION. 

Oh ! let his Love, a sacred fire out-going, 
Consume each molten image from our sight ; 

And be our spirits, to his Truth in-flowing. 
Transparent as the diamond is to light ! 

It is the soul which makes its own external ; 

All things are outbirths from her inmost sphere ; 
Sunshines of peace on landscaj^es ever vernal, 

And wastes of winter come alike from her. 

The love of Grod, the fealty which we owe Him, 
Grafted upon our hearts and fruitful there. 

Will make the outward life a noble poem. 
By making first the inner life a prayer. 

Is not the Holy, beautiful Ideal 

The Father of our hope and joy and love ? 
Which comes incarnate in the grosser Real, 

Eemolding it by patterns from above ? 

Joy springs from sorrow, virtue from temptation, 
And daily death is but a happier birth ; 

Then comes our Sabbath of regeneration. 
Uniting heaven for evermore with earth. 



THE STEEAM OF LIFE. 



As gayly down tlie stream of Time 

Fast glides this bark of ours, 
The heart should swell to pleasure's chime, 

The bark be trimmed with flowers. 

Ethereal music fills the sail, 

And rainbows span the prow, 
Prophetic sounds of evil fail, 

And angels guide us now. 

They say this wave, whose whispering gush 

Is soft as slumber's breath, 
O'er darkling steeps and rocks will rush 

Into th' abyss of death. 



188 THE STREAM OF LIFE, 

Believe it not ! At close of day, 

Whilst dreaming safe we lie. 
This stream will bend its upward way 

Towards the evening sky ; 

Will glide through clouds of pearl and gold, 

And plains of azure too, 
In light and music softly rolled 

To heaven's eternal blue. 

So gayly down the stream of time 

Fast glides this bark, of ours, 
Our bosoms swell to pleasure's chime. 

Our bark is trimmed with flowers. 



THE INFANT IN HEAVEN 



Where Deatii^ in yon deserted ground^ 

His garnered harvest keeps. 
Beside a small and verdant mound, 

A lonely Mother weeps. 

Upon the glittering turf she sits, 
Like one in mournful dreams, 

The trusting bird around her flits. 
So motionless she seems. 

In attitude of one whose mind 

Implores a word of cheer, 
Who e'en unto the whispering wind 

Inclines an anxious ear. 



190 THE INFANT IN HEAVEN. 

She sees by more than fancy's light 

The pale^ cold face below, 
Whose infant roses were so bright 

A few sad days ago. 

Meanwhile, beyond the curtaining skies, 
The Lost One finds his rest. 

And leans, with love-illumined eyes, 
Upon an angel's breast. 

Whilst angel-sisters deck his brow 
With their immortal flowers. 

And lulling music whispers low 
Through the celestial bowers. 

A nursling of the heavens, he lives 
In heaven's eternal bloom ; 

But Nature's holy tie survives 
The passage of the tomb : 

For list ! what does the loving breeze 

Unto the mourner speak ? 
And see ! a sunbeam through the trees 

Hath kissed the mourner's cheek ! 



THE INFANT IN HEAVEN. 191 

0, weeping Mother ! couldst thou read 

The symbols round thee giveUj 
Thy gladdened heart would surely heed 

These messages from heaven 1 



CONSOLATION FEOM NATUKE 



! SEEK a pleasant valley 
When thy soul is full of care, 

Or a forest; where the lulling wave 
Can ripple in thine ear; 

Where the winds are softly sighing 
Through the dark and solemn pines, 

And the light upon the verdant ground 
In broken splendor shines ; 

Where the little birds unfettered 
Warble blithely as they please, 

And the squirrel leapeth lightsomely 
Among his native trees. 



CONSOLATION FROM NATURE. 193 

The freshness and the silence 

And the beauty will impart 
A balm unto thy fretted thought, 

A peace unto thy heart. 

The lofty mountain waters 

Are shattered to and fro, 
And find no peace until they glide 

Into the vale below ; 

In lowliness of spirit 

Our hearts are newly blest. 
And thousand gentle stars of heaven 

Are pictured in the breast. 

Nor is it all a fancy 

That the Spirits of the wood, 
And those that haunt the meadow walks, 

Are Messengers of Grood, 

That hover kindly round us 

In every beauteous thing, 
To sweetly steal our cares away 

And heavenly comfort bring. 



THE PHILANTHROPIST AND THE CHILD. 



PHILANTHROPIST. 

This Canary must be free ; 
Nature's law is liberty ! 
Don't you know it is a sin 
To keep this little bird within ? 

child. 
My sweet mother gave it me. 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

Oh the wicked tyrant she ! 

CHILD. 

Some one else imprisoned it. 



PHILANTHROPIST AND CHILD. 195 
PHILANTHROPIST. 

Mends the matter not a bit. 
You must answer for its pain, 
Give it liberty again. 

CHILD. 

I love the helpless creature so ! 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

'T is a selfish love, we know. 

CHILD. 

It sings so sweetly every morn. 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

Sing yourself when it has gone. 

CHILD. 

'T was not born or nurtured here ; 
In this foreign clime, I fear. 
Freedom would not do it good ; 
'Twill freeze or perish in the wood. 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

Nature amply will provide, 
All its wants will be supplied ; 



196 THE PHILANTHROPIST 

'T will " develop/' when it 's freed ; 
Give the sacred Grospel heed. 
Hear it — "Let the oppressed go free !" 
Give this bird his liberty. 

CHILD. 

Ah ! but if he flies away. 
Will not ugly birds of prey, 
Stronger, fiercer, pounce on him. 
Tearing madly limb from limb ? 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

He must take his equal chances. 
Whilst " Progression" still advances. 
" Higher Law'' 's the one to bind most. 
Let the Devil take the hindmost. 

CHILD. 

Though but a child, it seems to me 
Such " higher law" is cruelty. 
Ill not obey ! 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

I '11 break the caore ! 



"o' 



CHILD. 

You '11 kill the bird ! 



AND THE CHILD. 197 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

I do n't engage 
For wliat the consequence may be, 
But "higher law" cries "liberty !" 

CHILD. 

You are unwise ! 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

I '11 break the cage ! 

CHILD. 

A Christian man in such a rage ! 
Now I believe, though weak and small^ 
You are no Christian man at all ! 



DESCENSUS AYEKNI 



A MYSTICISM. 



A Youth in the land of Immortals, 
Engirdled with love like a zone, 

In the sunshine and glory of morning, 
Went dreamily wandering alone. 

Far down to the borders of Aidenn, 
Far down to the crystalline walls. 

O'er which to the spaces beneath them 
God's Light, like a cataract, falls. 

In-drawn, he was fixedly pondering, 
With an ardor akin to strife, 

On the questions which have no answers, 
And the awful riddle of Life. 



DESCENSUS AVERNI. 199 

With a feeling of dread to have wandered 
From the center of Heaven so far, 

That the sun of its holy meridian 
Had dwindled almost to a star, 

He gazed on the verdurous tissues 
That glittered and grew at his feet, 

When he saw a most wonderful Serpent 
Glide out of its hidden retreat : 

A rainbow of serpentine colors. 

Gold, silver, and crimson and green, 

So like to the beautiful herbage, 
That its motions were scarcely seen. 

It glided away like a Spirit, 

Like a thought which we can not retain, 
And the Youth, of its splendor enamored, 

Sought after it over the plain. 

He lost it mid grasses and blossoms 
That swayed in the sighing breeze — 

And he came to a granite Fountain, 
In the shadow of odorous trees : 



200 DESCENSUS AVERNI. 

A Fount with a sculptured basin 

Of Paradise-water there, 
As placid as if it was frozen, 

As lucid as if it was air. 

Forgetting the ethereal nectars 

To innermost angels given. 
He scooped in his shell-tinct fingers 

The marginal water of Heaven, 

When a Dove with fluttering pinions 
Alit on his outstretched arm, 

With the plaintive wail of a mother 
Who would shield her child from harm. 

In the reckless thought of the moment. 
He brushed the sweet bird away, 

The bird which had seen how the Serpent 
Encoiled in the water lay ! 

What a change in the world within him ! 

And thence in the world without ! 
The old path he could find no longer 

However he turned about. 



DESCENSUS AVERNI. 201 

He saw naught but an iron portal 

That led to a desolate moor, 
A region of stone-heaps and shadows — 

And he passed through the iron door. 



THE MAGIC GAEDEN. 



I WALKED in the magic garden 
That lies in the summer air. 

Upborne by the purple mountains, 
And cloud -encircled there : 

A place of wonder and glory, 
Where Nature has no control, 

But outward things are the symbols 
Of things within the soul. 

Thus, Zephyr, the lonely shepherd 
That piped in the orange grove. 

Was the sound of my heart a-sighing 
For some chosen one to love ; 



THE MAGIC GARDEN. 203 

And the rivulet's face of silver, 
As it looked to the azure heaven, 

Was the light of my soul rejoicing, 
In the Truth which God had given. 

On a path that sweetly meandered. 
Like a careless train of thought, 

I revolved the sacred enigma. 
And found the answer I sought. 

An Angel appeared before me, 
Or a Demon in bright disguise. 

With a heaven of womanly graces 
Enshrined in her love-lit eyes. 

With a face of superlative beauty, 
With features so strangely bright. 

They shone in that radiant garden 
As a meteor shines in the night. 

She stood in a golden halo. 

In a sphere of magical art. 
An aura of musical motions 

That thrilled to my inmost heart. 



204 THE MAGIC GARDEN. 

She proffered a golden goblet, 

Brimful of a rosy wine ; 
Her lips had just deepened its color, 

And she proffered it then to mine. 

" 0, this is the dew of Heaven," 
She said, with a luring smile, 

And my heart — 0, it wildly fluttered 
With passionate throbs the while. 

There had stood a rose-bush near me, 
With listening roses thereon — 

But lo ! in a luminous moment 
The roses and leaves were gone : 

And a rare and beautiful Maiden 
Came suddenly shining there ; 

Like a soul from the dead arising 
She rose on the fragrant air. 

She proffered a silver goblet 
Brimful of a crystal dew. 

In the grasp of her pearl-tinct fingers 
It brighter and brighter gi^ew. 



THE MAGIC GARDEN. 205 

"I give thee the water of Heaven," 
She said, with a smile of light — 

And my heart — 0, it sweetly fluttered 
With the joy of a marriage night. 

I gazed from one to the other 

In silent and deep debate, 
The look of the one was Pity, 

The look of the other was Hate. 

When lo ! I beheld in the Maiden 

An expression of purest love, 
Like the face of my angel-mother. 

Which I knew was shining above. 

I drank of her mystical goblet. 

And by its revealing art 
I saw that a venomous serpent 

Was gnawing the Syren's heart. 

She paled like a cloud disappearing, 
And where she had stood there upgrew 

The dark green leaves of the nightshade. 
And its berries of ghastly blue. 



206 THE MAGIC GARDEN. 

Then a star glanced up into heaven. 
And the garden dissolved into air, 

Whilst I knelt at my eastern window, 
With my soul dissolved in prayer. 



SPIRITUAL VISION. 



Oh ! turn into my palace 
From thy weary, dusty way ; 

A cup of wine sliall glad thy heart 
And music cheer thy stay. 

The crystal gate is open 

On golden hinge ajar, 
And down the odorous avenues 

The portals gleam afar. 

The myrtles and magnolias 

Grive out ^olian tones, 
And statues twinlde through the trees 

Enwrought of precious stones. 



208 SPIRITUAL VISION. 

The mj^stic soul of Beauty 
Shall meet thee face to face, 

For Peace the Angel fixes here 
Her charmed dwelling-place. 

" What braggart words of folly 
Are these thou speakst to me ? 

Thou poor old doting mendicant, 
As blind as thou canst be ! 

"Thy wine is naught but watei 
Dipped from the rustic spring ! 

Thou hast no music here, unless 
The birds may choose to sing. 

"I see a lowly cottage. 

Instead of kingly hall. 
Thy avenues and sculptured gems- 

I see them not at all. 

" Thy mystic soul of Beauty 
Is a phantom of thy brain. 

Thy Angels must be Discontent, 
And Poverty, and Pain." 



SPIRITUAL VISION. 209 

Now by thy thought outspoken, 

Poor wanderer ! I discern 
How much of Love thou hast to feel, 

Of Wisdom hast to learn ! 

Go out into the highways, 

And speak the words of cheer ; 

Return the joyful smile for smile 
The mourning — tear for tear. 

Find thy own life in others, 

And then come back to me ; 
And thou shalt hear what I have heard, 

And see what I can see. 

The inner world of splendor 

Is sealed to carnal eyes ; 
Invisible to selfish man 

Is saintly Paradise ; 

But like the laughing Dryad 

Within the blooming tree, 
There is a World within the World 

The Good alone can see. 



THE SHEPHEKD OF CYPKUS. 



I HUMBLY thank you, Grreek Philosophers ! 
Who come so far to hear a Christian talk^ 
Oldj blind and wretched^ to the beasts condemned. 
I heard just now the hungry lion's growl, 
And my flesh trembled, and my hair uprose, 
But my true self was calm and unappalled ; 
Glory to Father, Son, and Holy Grhost ! 

!N"o doubt you are weary of my simple words, 
For preaching Christ is plain and spiritual. 
Unlike your philosophic diatribes ; 
So I will tell you of a wondrous thing 
Which happened when I was a shepherd boy 
In my native Isle of Cyprus ; whence began 
My long discipleship to good St. John, 
And my eternal bondage to the Cross. 



THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 211 

One bright Spring morningj when the tender grass 
Had just been moistened with a little shower 
Like a child's tears, which a soft-coming wind 
Sweet as a mother's lips, had kissed away, 
My blue-eyed sister and myself led out 
Our little flock, just twenty-four in all. 
To feed them at the green, secluded foot 
Of a lofty mountain. There we played awhile 
Along the margin of a winding stream 
Which skirted leisurely the mountain's base, 
A silver hem upon its flowing robe 
Of forest green, trying in vain to float 
Young flowers new gathered from their juicy stems. 
Like mimic gallies on the bright-faced water. 
In careless sport at last we ventured in. 
Planting our naked feet on golden sand. 
And wading softly till the water-nymph 
Clasped us, with cooling kisses, round the knees, 
^Making us laugh. 

We gained the other bank, 
Where we had never been before, when suddenly 
We heard such wondrous music up the height. 
That we forgot our flock and the dread chance 



212 THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 

Of meeting some wild creature in the woods, 
And followed it. We climbed the shaded slopes 
So eagerly, we did not turn to see 
The radiant picture which was spread below ; 
The town-built valleys, and the rock-bridged streams. 
Green-growing pastures, and the purpled hills 
Overhung with shifting canopies of cloud ; 
And, too remote to hear its ceaseless sound. 
The flossy white surf of the emerald sea. 
Far shining up and down the golden-beach. 

We climbed the wooded slopes, and as we went 
We both began to glow, not with fatigue 
But love, and when we paused, 't was not to rest 
But to embrace each other, heart to heart. 
To beg forgiveness and to be forgiven 
For past offenses, and with tears renew 
Our pledges of affection, strangely moved 
By powers invisible. Thus on we went, 
Upward and onward, hand in hand conjoined, 
In atmosphere serene of peace and joy. 

As we approached the summit, wondering much 
How sweet and cool the sea-air was so high,_ 



THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 213 

And peering vainly under every coj^se 
For the strange sounds which had attracted us, 
But which now ceased, we saw the Holy Man 
Forth issuing from a dark and mossy grotto, 
Whose entrance was o'erhung by netted vines. 
He held a parchment in Ms hand ; his eyes 
Were lambent with the light of heavenly love — 
Light left upon him by the "open heaven" 
Of which you read in his Apocalypse. 
His locks were white as snow and soft as silk. 
But still you never could have thought him old, 
For a strange youthfulness shone in his face ; 
His delicate features, like a rosy girl's. 
Beaming with beautiful simplicity. 

Outstretchino; to us both his Ions: white hands 

With an ethereal tenderness, he said, 

" Children ! what brings you to my lone retreat ?'' 

" The music,'' I replied, abashed and low, 

While my coy sister earnestly looked down, 

Digging the soft turf with her little foot. 

" Music P I hea^rd none" — was his slow response ; 

But in a moment, with a sudden gleam 

Of comprehension on his brow, he added. 



214 THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 

" Ah ! I perceive that you are blest of Heaven, 

And are partakers of the spiritual sight. 

You need no revelation more but this, 

Love one another, for our Life is Love. 

For thee, bright and blue-eyed daughter of the 

vale, 
Celestial angels keep impatient watch ; 
But we, young Shepherd ! we shall meet again. 
Behold the messengers which will conduct 
Your wandering footsteps to their wonted paths '/"' 
Smiling, he turned into the shadowy grot. 
Casting a silver light upon its wall. 

Then first we saw the Heaven-sent messengers, 
As stars come out when sunlight disappears. 
A milk-white Lamb, fair as another child. 
Up started from my sister's feet and frisked. 
Playfully gamboling as it moved in light 
Adown the slope. With childish ecstasy 
Clapping her hands, she started in j)ursuit 
Of the bright creature. At my side I saw 
A fiery Eagle with imperial eye, 
Slowly unfolding his majestic wings 
All silver tipped. He then appeared to move 



THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 215 

In unison with something in myself ; 
Ghding serenely on from bough to bough, 
Flitting and perching where mine eye directed, 
As if he were the shadow of my soul, 
Or echo of my thought. 

Thus down we went, 
And as we went I saw a lion couched 
Upon the leaves asleep, his huge fore feet 
Half-hidden by his brindled mane. We passed 
Breathless on tip-toe by, and then descried 
A great brown serpent dangling from a tree, 
Like a vast spiral grape-vine, coil on coil. 
Harmless, for some enchanter had been there 
Lulling his fierce malignant soul to sleep. 

Thus wondering, hurrying down we went, in all 
The silence and the mystery of a dream, 
Until we touched the bright-faced wave again ; 
When lo ! the Lamb and Eagle disappeared. 
Bright symbols, vanishing away like thoughts. 
We crossed in trepidation, and looked back, 
But every trace of mystery was gone ; 
We were surrounded by the common things 
Which we had seen a thousand times before ; 



216 THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS. 

The old, familiar wind was in the pines, 
And sunset slowly reddened up the steep. 

I know you would now ask me if I take 
These strange events for fact or metaphor. 
Both — I reply ; for l^ature's outward forms 
Are plastic to the molding breath of Spirit, 
And every thing created in its turn 
Contains a spiritual essence, which is truth. 
Thus metaphor is sj)iritual wisdom couched 
In natural language, and a miracle 
Is but the outpla}^ of a, spiritual law 
Into th' expanse of nature. 

Would you know 
More of these mysteries, for my time is short 
And my strength failing, the great Comforter, 
Who is the Spirit of Truth, will guide your spirits 
Into all truth. My last hour I would spend 
In solitary prayer. Kemember what I told you 
About the Kesurrection. Good friends ! adieu I 



T K I B U T E 



TO EMANUEL SWEDEN BO EG. 



Lost from her altars, Nature's noblest Priest ! 

On earth ignored, traduced, misunderstood, 
Thou hast ascended to the empyreal feast 

With thy co-laborers, the Wise and Good. 
Men, all too weak or blind the Truth to see, 

Would shroud thy grave in thickest pall of 
night. 
Where Angels Avith prophetic smiles of light 

Have planted flowers of immortality. 
Like mountain-peak emerging from a flood, 

In clouds and darkness lone thou standest now, 

As to the ark one sacred summit stood. 

When all the world was sunk in waves below : 

10 



218 SONNET TO EMANUEL SWEDE NBORG. 

But in the future when the watery waste, 
By the great ocean of God's Light displaced, 
Shall of its ravage leave no mark to tell, 
Men in their vales shall view thee from afar 
Towering serenely by the Morning Star, 
In height of glory inaccessible. 



A HOME PICTURE. 



They have wheeled the Old Man's easy chair 

Under the blossoming cherry tree ; 

For he still delights to hear and see 
What Spring is about in the open air ; 
For his heart is young, though his head is old, 
And the light about him is purple and gold. 

A bright-eyed Boy is at his knee, 
And the Old man's trembling hands are laid 
Crown-like, on his curly head. 

A Picture beautiful to see ! 

How Age and Infancy agree 

In loving, prattling sympathy ! 
While down the snow-white blossoms fall 

Brightly, softly as they can, 
Like blessings dropped by the Father of All 

On the Winter and Spring of Man. 



THE HEROES GRAVE. 



LIGHTLY, tread lightly, 'tis holy ground 
Where the corse of the Hero is resting : 

There's a charm on the mind and a spell on the 
mound, • . 

Like a halo of glory investing. 

For the Spirit that kindled the eye of the hrave 
Lingers still at the spot to endear it ; 

And his is the. heart of a coward or slave 
That beats not more gallantly near it. 

Ah ! shed not your tears at the soldier's lot, 
When he dies where his country calls him. 

When he falls ere the fire of the foeman's shot 
Or the terror of death appalls him. 



THE hero's grave. 221 

The smoke of the battle may melt away, 
And the turf of the valley may hide him, 

His form in its braided shroud may decay, 
And his good saber rust beside him ; 

But a light comes forth from the warrior's grave 
Whilst his comrades are sorrowing o'er it, 

A beacon of hope to the hearts of the brave, 
And oppressors may tremble before it. 

Then lightly, tread lightly, 'tis holy ground 
Where the corse of the hero is resting. 

For the Spirit of Liberty hallows the mound, 
With a halo of glory investing ! 



DEATH OF GENERAL LEE. 



"In the delirium caused by the fever, the last words that Gonen 
Lee was heard to say were, ' Stand by me, my brave Grdr.adiers.' "- 
Life of General Charles Lee, hy Jared Sparks, page COO. 



No^ no, I am not dying ! 

I need no priestly cares ; 
Away, away 1 
I will not stay ! 

I '11 join my grenadiers ! 

Hark to the booming cannon ! 

'T is music in my ears ; 

See ! from this mound, 
That battle-ground — 

And these — my grenadiers. 



DEATH OF GENERAL LEE. 223 

Yon bristling, shining column ! — 
What martial fire it stirs ! 
By dint and brunt 
We '11 break its front ; 

Ready ! my grenadiers ! 

Charge on them now like meteors 
Shot swiftly from their spheres ! 

Hurrah ! 't is done, 

The point is won ; 
Hurrah ! my grenadiers ! 

Those right-hand guns are silent ! 
The wind of fortune veers ; 
Beat, beat the drums ! 
A rescue comes 1 
Lee with his grenadiers ! 

Down with the British bullies ! 
Down with the Hessian curs ! 

Follow me, all ! 

I 'm shot 1 I fall- 
en ! on ! my grenadiers ! 



224 DEATH OF GENERAL LEE. 

Right on through smoke and carnage ! 
Nor let him flincli who hears 
The crush of bones, 
Like clashing stones ; 
Right on ! my grenadiers ! 

Have ye not won the battle ? 
Then give your deafening cheers ! 

And should I die, 

Stand cheering by. 
My gallant grenadiers ! 

What means this wail of women ? 
What mean these sobs and tears ? 

How cold it blows ! 

How dark it grows ! 
Stand by me, grenadiers ! 



BEFOEE AND AFTER THE BATTLE. 



Is it the frost that glitters so white ? 

Is it the wind in yonder glen ? 
No ! no ! they are tents in the early light, 

And that is the marshaling sound of men. 
Bright over armies the morning shines, 

Shining as o'er a ruffled lake ; 
Dark lie the cannon along the lines, 

Like hurricane clouds before they break. 
Over the hill and over the valley, 
Wildly the buglemen call to the rally ! 
Float — ^banners ! float — bright as the sunset ; 
Blow, bugles ! blow — blow for the onset ! 

Is it a ruin, old and gray. 

That glimmers in dusky twilight so ? 



10 



* 



226 BEFOKE AND AFTER THE BATTLE. 

A ruin whose walls and people lay 

Mingled together in dust helow — 
O'er which a moon of lurid red 

Wanders, in smoky vapor lost — 
No ! no ! 'tis the shadowy field of the dead, 

And the wreck of a broken host. 
Over the hill and over the valley, 
Ne'er shall the buglemen call to the rally ! 
Droop, banners ! droop — droop like the willow ; 
Weep, Angels ! weep o'er the soldier's pillow ! 



HOPE IN WINTER. 



As those who, wintering in the Arctic seas, 
Look round them vainly for the cheering sun, 
Gone hut not lost behind their Southern hills, 
And in the gleaming snows. Auroral lights 
And coruscations of the cloudless sky. 
Discern memorials of the living fire 
Of Heaven — and prophecies of its return : 
So we, in thankfulness and patient hope, 
Standing mid Winter's melancholy waste, 
The unurned ashes of the year, have glimpse 
Of blessings, beauties, glories which have been 
And are again to be. 

How dark and cold. 
How desolate and foreboding are the forms 



228 HOPE IN WINTER. 

Which Winter's touch impresses on the world ! 

The stately trees^ a troop of skeletons^ 

Tower in the gloom and wave their naked arms 

Complainingly to the sky. With tinkling sound, 

The ghostly echo of its summer laugh, 

The brook goes stealing through its frosted banks, 

Or, chilled by north-wind kisses to repose, 

Lies white and silent as a water-iiymph 

Outstretched, and in the moonlight fallen asleep. 



All things bear token of. decay or death, 

As if our world receded from the sun, 

And from the lambent splieres of life and love, 

Into the fathomless and frozen void ; 

And might, perchance, become a wandering orb 

Sprung tangent from its bright primeval path : 

A chaos habited by glimmering shapes, 

Where fire had lost its heat, and light was 

shade, 
Where sounds were echoes only, and the souls 
Of living men were ghosts — and thoughts were 

dreams — 
And Life a Picture that but seemed to live. 



HOPE IN w I N T p: R . 229 

But lo ! at signal given by Him^ to whom 
The axial lines round which the stars revolve 
Are merely threads^ His mighty hand has woven 
Into the frame of Nature — lo ! it turns, 
And like the homeward-bending prodigal, 
It nears the radiant palace of the sun, 
To be re-welcomed with paternal kiss, 
Ke-clad in gold and purple, re-illumed 
With light, and love, and joy ! 



Who ever sat 
Contemplating on solitary hills 
Beneath a canopy of cold, gray cloud. 
Mantled 'gainst Northern winds, and never felt 
The holy presence of invisible powers, 
Nor could distinguish with attentive ear 
Voices on either hand ? From deep ravines, 
Fainter than rustling of their own dry leaves, 
Come the last quavers of the harvest song. 
Which Autumn reapers sang amid their fields 
Golden with sunlight— while from greenest meads 
And azure vistas, shadowy, remote. 
The fairy bugle of the frolic Spring, 



230 HOPE IN WINTER. 

Calling the bright-eyed flowers around her feet, 
Echoes like water rippling in a dream. 

Thus oscillates the mighty weight of Time 
Forwards and backwards on our human hearts, 
Counting our lives out with its solemn beat, 
A pendulum of Memory and Hope. 



THE GKAYEYAKD. 



The waning light of Summer day 
Still lingers on the verdant ground, 

As loth to draw its beam away 

From graven stone and grassy mound. 

No voice of living Nature grieves 
For those who now for ever rest, 

Nought but a sigh of rustling leaves. 
As soft as sigh from human breast. 

Here let our willing feet remain, 
Nor all the busy world regret. 

Whilst we enjoy that hour again 

Which all have known and all forget ; 



232 THE GRAVEYARD. 

That hour when those we call the Dead 
Come to our hearts from other spheres^ 

And calm delight and solace shed 

Too deep for words, too pure for tears. 

Who can bewail this mortal state, 
Or question Heaven, or curse our lot, 

Or e'en lament our transient date. 
In Nature's sweetest, humblest spot ? 

Does not an inward teacher say 

That Death has stored no trophies here? 

For angel hands have rolled away 
The stone from every sepulcher. 

They all have risen ! These buried bones 
Of dust were wrought, to dust are given ; 

The names upon these sculptured stones. 
Are names of those who live in Heaven. 

The grandsire from his honored bier 
Arose to share immortal youth, 

With kindred souls from every sphere, 
Who lived for Goodness and for Truth. 



THE GRAVEYARD. 233 

The beauteous child, by gentle powers, 

Was disentangled from his clay. 
And borne to grow in heavenly bowers, 

To perfect form in perfect day. 

Wife, husband, children met again. 

And in the glow of mutual love 
Found all their lives, except the pain, 

Kestored, renewed and blest above. 

And knew ye of a constant pair 

Whose separation I'ate decreed, 
Whose fruitless loves were writ in air. 

Whose constant hearts were made to bleed ? 

Beyond this realm of hopes and dreams, 

Beneath a happier, brighter sun, 
Their Spirits, like two radiant streams, 

Approached and mingled into one. 

Of all the erring, base, or proud. 
If one in this fair spot there lies. 

Shall we presume to pierce the cloud 
Which veils his future destinies ? 



234 THE GRAVEYARD. 

Ah ! no — we never can foretell 
What fates to sinful men befall. 



But this we know^ and feel it well, 
Our Father made and loves them all ! 



With spirits strengthened by the Past, 
To future life we meekly turn, 

While golden clouds are paling fast, 
And evening weeps at sunset's urn. 



NEW THANATOPSIS. 



Beneath the glory of a brighter Sun 

Than that which keeps this moving globe of earth 

True to its orbit, and with vision born 

Of spiritual life and wisdom given of God, 

I sought for Death throughout the Universe, 

If haply I might note the dreaded Being 

Who casts such shadows on the human heart 

And breaks with his discordant string, abrupt, 

The harmonies of Nature. But in vain 

I scanned the range of being infinite. 

From Grod to angels and through men to earth, 

To beast, bird, serpent, and the ocean tribes. 

To worms, and flowers, and the atomic forms 

Of crystalline creations. ChTtnge had been, 



236 NEW THANATOPSIS. 

Perpetual evolution and fresh life, 
And metamorphoses to higher states, 
An orderly progress, like the building up 
Of pyramids from earth's material base 
Into the fields of sunlight — ^but no Death. 

With deep solemnity akin to fear 

I pondered o'er the elemental world, 

That seemino: chaos — but its bosom held 

Nought but the embryonic forms of Life. 

Nor did the ideal basis of all things. 

To the keen sense of spirit, elude pursuit 

In chemic transformations. Then I read 

The geologic leaves of stone sublime 

And spiritual mysteries of primal date. 

Immortal book in an immortal tongue, 

Decipherable only by the light 

Of a new revelation. Next I looked 

Into the dark mausoleums of the Past, 

And up the silent, shadow}^ stream of Time, 

Upon whose banks nations and men, like leaves, 

Lie withered. And I turned the teeming soil 

Of all the battle-fields of every age.; 

Peered into charnels, tracked the desolate paths 



NEW T H A N A T O P S I S 237 

Of plague and famine, and surveyed with awe 

The secrets of the sea — but saw no Death. 

To Spirits, the veil of whose material temple 

Is rent in twain, and who are capable 

Of purer thought and elemental life, 

His name and nature were alike unknown. 

Throughout the choral harmony of things, 

And all the vast economy of God, 

He had no place or office — He was not. 

Then as the Sun distills vitality 

Into the plastic fibers of the flower, 

I felt the influx of creative Light, 

Which is the heaven-sent wisdom of the mind, 

And saw b}^ intuitions not my own 

The rays of Truth illumine what was dark, 

And brighten what was sad before. I learned 

That God alone is Life, and all our life 

From him derived^ and what we fancy Death 

But the negation of his sacred gift, 

As cold of heat, and darkness is of light. 

Insensate matter is the base of all, 

The footstool of our life, the supple mold 

Through which the living currents come and go. 



238 NEW THANATOPSIS. 

This body is the garment of the Soul, 

The coarse, material outbirth of its life, 

Its meclimn for a time, the shell which keeps 

Within its curves the music of the sea, 

The word expressive of the hidden thought, 

A wondrous thing ! which seems to live but does not. 

For nothing lives but God, and we in Him. 

The Spirit is a substance, a pure form 
Of immaterial tissue, finely wrought 
Into the human shape, unseen in this 
Our physical existence, hut the cause 
Of all its motions, and its very life. 
When ripened for a more exalted sphere, 
The soul exuves this earthly envelope. 
And leaves the atoms of its chemic dross 
For worms, or weeds, or flowers to habit in, 
While it withdraws to more august abodes. 
And wakes to consciousness of deeper Life. 

The Human Form receives its gift divine 
In three degrees, distinct and yet united ; 
The Angel lives potential in the Spirit, 
And both are grafted in the Natural Man, 



NEW THANATOPSIS. 239 

AlS creatures of rare beauty lie encased 

In the poor figure of an humble worm. 

We move awhile in this material sphere 

And form the basis of our higher life — 

Celestial superstructure. God withdraws^ 

At his own time^ the breath of his support 

From this, the lowest phasis of our being. 

And then we seem to die : but while our friends 

In grief and mental blindness mourn our loss, 

We have ascended to serener heights 

And found a fuller and more blissful life, 

Happier beyond comparison than those 

Who pass in joy from hovels all forlorn 

To j)alaces imperial. 

None have died 
From earth's first revolution to the present : 
But all are living in congenial spheres. 
And in eternal progress, in the realms 
Of spiritual existence. All is Life — 
Earth has indeed no monuments of death, 
But only vestiges of those who passed 
From this hereditary vale of shadows, 
The echoes of their voices and the prints 



240 NEW THANATOPSIS. 

Left by the travelers on the sands of Time. 
In gloom and darkness does the Poet sing 
Who calls this earth the mighty tomb of man. 
'T is but his temporary habitation. 
Along whose walls and silent corridors. 
When he departs to more sublime abodes, 
He leaves some trivial traces of himself. 
The grave has nothing it can render back ; 
We do not pass from nature to the grave, 
But Nature is our grave, from which we mount 
At seeming death, our real resurrection. 
Into the blest empyrean. And the tomb. 
With all its grief, and tenderness, and shadow, 
Is the creation of our sluggish minds. 
By kindly memories and sweet suggestions, 
To cherish and prolong the names of friends, 
Grone, but not lost, unseen, but nearer still 
In beauty and in glory to our life. 
Which lies embedded in this natural form 
Like jewel in its casket. 

"Whence," I cried, 
Questioning in pain my more interior mind, 
" Whence then the darkness and the apprehension. 



NEW THANATOPSIS. 241 

The doubt, the gloom, the fear, the agony 

Of natural dissolution, which but breaks 

The spell of evil and reveals to us 

The inner splendors of the universe ? 

Why should immortal man, the image of Grod, 

Shrink from the Jordan's pure and luminous 

wave, 
Whose easy passage leads him in all joy 
From desert wilds to loved Jerusalem ?" 

Then rose a Picture representative 

(The spiritual mode of teaching) to my eye. 

O'er the wide world a massive shadow hung, 

Blacker than winter cloud, or lonely tarn 

In mountain gorges blacker e'en than night 

With all its silence, and it swayed in storm 

Athwart the sky and hid the glorious sun. 

Darkness lay brooding on the minds of men, 

And through the mists of error all they saw 

Was hideous, maimed, distorted and deformed. 

Foul exhalation from the sinful race. 

Did Evil thus shut out the Life of Grod, 

And the poor victims in the fearful gloom 

Grroaned for a quick deliverance. While I looked, 

11 



242 NEW THANATOPSIS. 

And grieved and wondered whence could come the 

Power 
To rend and dissipate so thick a night, 
The mighty shadows slowly paled away 
Like loose-woven clouds dissolving into air ; 
They paled away, nor left a trace behind ; 
They paled away, and in their stead came Light 
As of a million suns in unison, 
Instinct with wondrous motions like a sea 
Of golden ether, without shore or bottom, 
A luminous abyss. It represented 
To my touched heart the Infinite Love of God, 
AVhich is the Life of the whole universe : 
At which supernal vision I was bowed 
In awe and peace and reverential joy. 



L'ENVOI. 



Go forthj my little Yerses ! to the world. 

On loving errand of benignant use : 

Like bees which gather up the hearts of flowers, 

Like flowers which shed their fragrance on the 

winds, 
Like winds which bring with them the fleecy clouds, 
Like clouds which are the quivers of the light, 
Like rays of light new falling from the sun, 
The children and the prophecies of heaven. 
Go forth like these, Yerses ! to the world, 
And if, like these, ye glad some human heart, 
And breathe into some bright expectant soul 
A sense of beauty, or a thought of love 
Which was not there before, I am content. 
And shall receive more pleasure than I give. 



ly Y CLIFF. 



A POEM. 



IVY CLIFF. 



How bright to Memory's reverted eyes 

Thy happy scenes, Ivy Cliff ! arise. 

Ivy Cliff ! serene and beauteous spot, 

Remembered when all others are forgot, 

Not as thou art do I survey thee now, 

The magic rose-light faded from thy brow, 

Music no longer echoing in thy glen, 

(The pearls of childhood are but stones to men,) 

But as thou wert in life's delightful morn. 

When from thy side I heard the fairy's horn ; 

And dreamed that dream which once to all is 

given. 
Of Jacob's ladder reaching^ into heaven. 



248 IVY CLIFF. 

A beetling bluffy with ivy overgrown, 
Chosen from its sister-hills and loved alone. 
Dew-crowned at morning lured my step away, 
With noontide calm solicited my stay, 
With evening beauties made me linger still 
Till purple twilight darkened all the hill ; 
Its mantled front with brownest shade replete, 
A voiceless river winding at its feet. 
Pent up by hills in ever-during thrall, 
The deep, dark water scarcely moved at all, 
But, uncomplaining of its rocky chain. 
Lay like a Titan, silent in his pain. 

The rugged sides of Ivy Cliff were hung 

With waving branches, ever green and young, 

A sylvan labyrinth of light and shade 

By clambering vines and blended bushes made ; 

A living wall of vegetable birth ; 

A shining vesture o^er the granite earth. 

When the flowers perished and the waters 

froze. 
Throughout the melancholy waste of snows, 
Sweetly it beamed upon the gladdened eye. 
Emblem of Hope and Truth which never die. 



IVY CLIFF. 249 

Near the bold summit bm^st a spring to view 
Colder than night and brighter than its dew. 
Briefly through moss the little rivulet ran 
Boundj like an infant-iifej to narrow span, 
Fell o'er the rocks, with transitory gleam, 
And perished weeping in the larger stream. 
It seemed to me the Spirit of the Hill 
Voiced and embodied as a flowing rill^ 
Whispering to unseen listeners of its own 
Sorrows and joys, alike to us unknown ; 
For sometimes it would strangely change its 

sound 
When not a leaf or wave was moving round. 
When wintry voices echoed wailing by, 
And every breeze was Nature's winged sigh, 
The brook would sing upon its joyous way 
Like bright-eyed boy upon a holiday. 
Again when Summer had reclad the earth, 
And all the air was redolent with mirth, 
With hum of bees and wings of butterflies, 
With lay of birds and airy symphonies. 
The brook, with feeble murmur of its fall, 
Sent alien sounds of sadness o'er them all ! 



11* 



250 IVY CLIFF. 

! sweet it was on early Summer morn 

From Ivy Cliff to hear the hunter's horn, 

With skillful quaver all the forest fill, 

Ere yet the Sun had kissed the eastern hill, 

Burst on the air of dewy solitudes 

And break the stillness of the dreaming woods, 

Then die away in distance from the ear 

Where none but hare or startled fox could hear ; 

And when the sun, o'er boundless field of light, 

Kolling his chariot to triumphal height. 

Shot down the valleys many a piercing ray. 

And broke the rolls of ^ silver mist away. 

The passing boatman gave his wild halloo, 

The startled hawk returned it as he flew, 

The wood subdued it to a lengthened moan. 

And Echo murmured from her couch of stone. 

There had my boyhood chosen — who has not ? 
For lonelier hours a sweet and silent spot. 
From all the tumult of the world remote, 
Where I could steal when none would care or 

note.; 
Like a lone cloud which softly breaks away 
From all the dark tempestuous array, 



IVY CLIFF. 251 

And floats far off in sunny joy to lie 
O'er sleeping seas in fields of azure sky. 

On Ivy Cliff beneath the kindly shade, 

When heaven was bright and all the winds were 

laid, 
With summer beauty glowing all around, 
With rural ease and quietness profound, 
With purple mountains fading into blue, 
And Otter's ever-radiant peaks in view ; 
With all we wish in water, earth, or sky, 
To please the mind and to delight the eye ; 
I. read and loved the bards of former age, 
Milton's great song and Spencer's sw^eetest page. 
Nor did I care though warblers in the green 
Allured me sweetly from the " Fairy Queen ;" 
'Not though some cloud-built palace won mine eyes 
From the bright scenes in Adam's paradise, 
The soft transition was with joy replete, 
The soft return to Poesy as sweet ; 
Mere changes in the notes, which all belong 
To one great choral harmony of song. 
There often lost in reverie would I lie. 
Till the last gleams were fading from the sky, 



252 IVY CLIFF, 

Till the last echo of Heaven's gate of gold 
Closing in music o'er the ether rolled, 
Then lingering in the weird and waning lightj 
My fancy would transform, on neighboring height, 
The dim-seen branches of some towering tree 
To giant knight of Paynim chivalry. 

Men, books and nature mold the growing mind, 
And each a deep impression leaves behind 
Nor Time, nor Circumstance can e'er eiiace. 
Which curious eyes in after years may trace. 
When with the school ipay studious hours began, 
I leaned to Nature rather than to man — 
And still I turn from all that Man has wrought 
To Nature for my sweetest hours of thought : 
For plastic Nature's busy atoms move 
Obedient to impulses from above ; 
Thus picturing forth the mysteries which lie 
Beyond the range of our material eye : 
A speech of things, not words, by which are given 
Thoughts and emotions which have come from 

heaven ; 
That speech whereby since solar time began 
The unseen Angels have conversed with man. 



IVY CLIFF. 253 

O Ivy Cliff ! with robes of evergreen. 

With many a Spring and many a Smnmer scene, 

With all the soft, the beautiful, the bright, 

In subtlest tissues of ethereal lio-ht. 

Didst thou not shed upon my soul a power 

Unfelt as sunbeams by the growing flower 

Feeding in secret my too hopeful heart 

With the great thoughts whose hieroglyph thou 

wert ? 
And thou, Dark River ! with unchanging form. 
Silent and strong in sunshine or in storm, 
Locked in thy hills, like prisoner of state, 
Didst thou not make me braver for my fate ? 
Wizard Wind ! that wanderest unseen 
Athwart the hills or down the deep ravine 
With every note of gladness or of grief 
Which hails the bred or weeps the falling leaf, 
Hast thou not breathed upon my lyre un- 
known. 
When all beheved the numbers were my own ? 
And ye. Beloved Mountains ! which arise 
Silently cleaving the eternal skies. 
Ye raised my Spirit to an atmosphere 
Of peace and beauty, above mortal care ; 



254 IVY CLIFF. 

Ye made me yearn in loftier degree 
For mental than for natural liberty, 
Aspire to climb the mountains of the Mind, 
And leave the laggards of the age behind ; 
Stand in the sunlight on the mighty brow, 
Nor heed the pigmies who might mock below ! 

When draws the festal month of Childhood 

near, 
" The merriest, maddest time of all the year," 
When rosy school-girls count the hours away, 
In sweet anticipation of the day. 
The willing boys their little labors share. 
And to the Cliff in eager troop repair. 
For gay festoons of graceful evergreen 
To deck the palace of the May-day Queen. 
Sad havoc make the busy urchins there, 
While jocund laughter shakes the genial air ; 
Voices and echoes leave no pause between. 
And the glad sunshine animates the scene. 
Loud crack the branches as the best are culled, 
Till every hand a weighty load has pulled. 
The task fulfilled, they all relax their powers. 
Some hie to play, and some in search of flowers, 



IVY CLIFF. 255 

To catch the heart's-ease nodding by the brook, 
Or steal the violet from its shaded nook. 
Some careless loll upon the shining grass 
And watch the clouds and shadows as they pass ; 
While some heave mighty stones adown the steep 
Into the sluggish water dark and deep, 
Admire the plunge and watch the circling ray, 
And hear the muffled echoes roll away. 
The birds in terror shun their green retreat. 
And Silence routed flies his favorite seat, 
Like a stern eagle winging from his woods 
To loneliest tarn in mountain solitudes. 
At length accloyed with pleasure's sweet excess, 
For ah ! our hearts can tire of happiness ! 
They bear their treasures to the busy girls 
Chattering mid golden locks or raven curls ; 
The kind assistance smiling lips repay. 
And bright eyes speak what lips could never 
say ! 

But ah ! why does the echo of my lyre 
From such gay theme in trembling wail expire ? 
As if some Sunbeam on my life had shed 
Its power, and left a Shadow in its stead ; 



256 IVY CLIFF. 

As if some Joy from out my heart liad flown 

And left a weeping Memory there alone. 

Oh yes ! there is a spot for sacred tears, 

A green, green mound which early love endears. 

Rainbows would arch it wdth eternal glow, 

And Angels guard it — if she slept below ; 

But jewel-crowned, white-vestured, harp in hand, 

She has arisen into the Morning Land. 

Before her eyes supernal glories shine, 

As radiant as she made the world to mine ; 

And seraph voices in that realm she hears 

As raptly as I listened ■ once to hers. 

She was the fairest of the May-day Queens, 

And I the happiest in those woodland scenes ; 

O'er fields of bleak December still I stray, 

All radiant she in her eternal May ! 

Spring-times and Summers of the rolling year ! 
Why come ye back with your prolific cheer ? 
Shadows and Memories ye can e'er restore, 
The Joys, the Sunbeams, ye can bring no more ! 

Love ! Young Love ! Thou dear Divinity ! 
What happy worship have I rendered thee ; 



IVY CLIFF. 257 

What hopes^ what sighs, what dreams I can recall, 
What fears, what ecstasies ! Thou haclst them all ! 
Yet was devotion with such bounty paid, 
So heavenly sweet was ardent service made. 
No vow was uttered which I could regret. 
No pang was felt, but I would feel it yet. 

Thou, Ivy Cliff ! hast witnessed how I loved, 
And with responsive tenderness approved ; 
For Nature to the Poet's heart reveals 
In her bright forms the sympathy she feels. 
How clear the young birds caroled round my 

seat. 
How fresh the ivy glistened at my feet, 
How soft the zephyrs sighed upon the air. 
How sweet the ringdove's cooing murmur there, 
How beautiful the clouds, as if they wove 
Ethereal palaces for dreaming Love, 
Whilst pensive lay the shadowy stream below 
Touched as with joy by evening's purple glow ! 
Thus didst thou. Nature ! with complying art 
Echo the subtle passion of my heart. 
In outward forms renew my joys again. 
And nurse in secret my delightful pain. 



258 IVY CLIFF. 

At the soft close of cheerful summer day, 
When golden clouds were fading into gray, 
When the rich purple deepened on the hill. 
And the dark river became darker still, 
Whilst in the twilight's azure field afar 
The new moon hung her silver scimitai-. 
Oft have I paused on Ivy Cliff to hear 
A homely music echoing far and near ; 
The Negro reapers, singing as they went, 
A homeward burst of native merriment. 
Which seemed to me a melancholy strain, 
A wild, mixed melody of joy and pain. 
Dying in sadness on the distant hill. 
Lost in the call of lonely whip-poor-will. 



The painted savage, Ishmael of the West, 
Insensate once this glorious soil possessed ; 
Untouched by all the loveliness we see, 
Unawed by Nature's dread sublimity. 
The Eace which neither fear nor pity knew, 
No arts could soften and no arms subdue. 
Fell on these hunting grounds, a stoic prey, 
Or roamed to wilder hunting grounds away. 



IVY CLIFF. 259 

Destined at last, on far Pacific shore, 
To sink from Nature's sunlight evermore. 
But the poor Negro, of a gentler mind, 
Obedient, peaceful, teachable and kind, 
Unfit for commerce or for war's alarms. 
Incapable alike of arts and arms, 
Organically slow and w^eak and mild, 
A Childlike Eace, eternally a Child, 
Condemned to service in his brother's tent. 
Finds in that service his true element. 



From golden Africa's barbaric shore, 

Sold by his kinsmen, he was dragged of yore ; 

A naked, trembling, weeping wretch he came. 

The child of superstition, blood and shame : 

Redeemed forever from his moral night, 

To useful labors gently trained aright. 

In just subordination, wisely led, 

Subservient as the hand is to the head. 

With thought and feeling kindling on his brow 

From a new life transfused, behold him now ! 

By fall provision and protection here. 

By justice, mercy, and by loving care, 



260 IVY CLIFF. 

By the great light which civilization spreads, 
And by the blessings which Keligion sheds, 
We give him, delving in the sun and soil, 
A fair remuneration for his toil. 
For names not principles let fools contend. 
We see the methods, Providence the end : 
The slave may be a freeman in his chain, 
Bonds may be broken and the slave remain ; 
One truth is clear : The Good alone are free, 
And r)i%itiial service is true Liberty ! 



One of those slumbrous, hazy Autumn eves. 
When the old forest dropt his crimson leaves. 
Twirling and rustling softly to the ground 
With a remote and melancholy sound. 
From Ivy Cliff I pensively surveyed 
The gradual changes which decay had made. 
From its cold fount the little rivulet wept, 
And o'er its path with feeble murmur crept. 
Soon to be hush'd in every frozen wave, 
Like Moorish statue in enchanted cave. 
In fixed forgetfulness or silent pain 
Until the Spring dissolved the spell again. 



IVY CLIFF. 261 

On the cliill air broke forth a joyful breeze, 
Last relic of the Summer symphonies, 
But was death-stricken to a pause — and then, 
Ghost of itself, went wailing down the glen. 
There as I mused, a sweet and subtle Power 
Smote on my heart, like sunbeams on the 

flower ; 
As if some Spirit which had been a-glow 
In Spring or Summer had refused to go 
To the embrace of Winter, drear and cold, 
And passed into a heart of human mold. 
Straightway I sighed with an ambitious hope 
To draw from Nature's great kaleidoscope 
Some form of thought which would not sool 

expire, 
Some living note to vibrate from my lyre, 
And waft away o'er hearts and homes afar 
The light, the love, the blessing of a star. 
Thus from the wreck the seasons leave behind 
We may distill new vigor of the mind ; 
As strength is born of melancholy hours, 
Or sweetest odors come from wounded flowers. 
As Hope relumes the ashes of Despair, 
Or violets starting from our graves appear. 



262 IVY CLIFF. 

When Ivy OlifF was mantled all in snow, 

And frolic skaters on the stream below 

Sent jovial voices on the Northern breeze, 

And tinkling echoes whistling through the trees^ 

On the bleak hill I paid my last adieu 

To scenes the dearest which my childhood knew. 

A wondrous city in the West appeared, 

On hills of amber and of pearl upreared ; 

Commingling shone its palaces afar, 

Each dome a sun, each pointing spire a star ; 

Glowing it stretched beyond the visual powers. 

And sapphire canopy o'erhung its towers. 

When lo ! as softly as a breaking dream. 

Or bright reflection wavering in a stream. 

They parted, spires, domes, towers and turrets all. 

Like a great realm dissolving to its fall ; 

The splendid fragments faded on the wind, 

Nor left to night one radiant trace behind. 

When from the scene my tardy footstep turned. 

A new ambition in my spirit burned — 

To do some deed according to my power, 

If Heaven would o^ive the means and send the hour, 



IVY CLIFF. 263 

Which in the laj)se of Time should bear its part 
T' illume the mind and cheer the human heart. 
Majestic rivers gliding to their goal 
Grive life and wealth to nations as they roll, 
The humblest flower that e'er exhales the dew 
Leaves on the earth its little blessing too. 
Vain are the labors and the schemes of man 
Unless accordant with the Eternal Plan ; 
Uncheered by light from brighter sun than ours 
We waste our thoughts, we desecrate our powers. 
In works of mind and in affairs of state 
They are serenely wise and truly great, 
And they alone, who bring us from above. 
Some ray of Truth, some spark of heavenly Love. 



A a A T H E. 



A TRAGEDY IS TWO ACTS 



DHAMATIS PERSONS. 



Lycander. . . .a Grecian King, just returned from Troy. 

Theron A. Militarj Attendant. 

Chrestus Friend of Theron, Guardian of Elpenor and Agatlie, 

Elpenor Nephew to Lycander — and the rightfal King. 

Agathe Priestess of Diana's Temple and Sister to Elpenor. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. 
A Private Garden. — Chrestus and Theron. 



Chrestus. 
So happy liave I been, beloved Theron ! 
In the repeated welcomes of my heart 
To thee and all, that for this one bright hour, 
Sole one for many years ! I have forgotten 
The mighty shadow gathering o'er our lives, 
And the dread secret which we two have kept 
So long in pain, unshared. How fares the King ? 

Therok. 

As such a man should fare : his visions haunt him 
With ten-fold power. At first he was but sad 
And spent whole days in moping reverie, 
Losing all sense of pleasure in the chase. 



268 A G A T H E . 

In musiCj feasting, or the pomp of state, 

In man or soothing woman. This had happened 

Before we parted. Then came fearful dreams, 

And sadden, terrible wakings in the night, 

Which made his eye grow wild and his face pale 

And stern and haggard ; afterwards appeared 

Mysterious visions, phantasies, no doubt, 

Of a mind conscience-stricken and a|)palled 

By the foreshadowings of its doom ; at last 

The unsubstantial images of thought 

Took form and shape as palpable to sense 

As things of earth. With e'er-increasing power. 

Exciting fear sometimes almost to agony. 

They broke upon his revels and his sleep, 

Peopled his tent and dogged his chariot wheels. 

Chrestus. 

Do these illusions ever intimate, 
By special uniformity of type. 
The nature of his guilt ? 

Theron. 

He never tells 
By words explicit what he hears or sees ; 
But, from expressions dropped in quick surprise, 



A G A T H E . 269 

Wild exclamations made in sudden fear. 

And mutterings when lie thought himself alone, 

I find the central figure of the group 

In all his dreams or waking phantasies 

Is that dead brother, whose great crown he wears, 

Unfortunate Elpenor, whom he pushed, 

One hunting day, from a wild precipice. 

And made the world believe, except us two, 

It was an accident. 

Chrestus. 

In all his ravings 
Speaks he ever of the children ? 

Theron. 

No, never. 
He thinks them dead. 

Chhestus. 

'T is well indeed he does ! 
And mav he never know the truth, unless 
Some sweet compunction of relenting nature 
Impel his soul to righteous restitution. 
Yet it is strange the secret, dread remembrance 
Of murdered innocence should not oppress him. 



270 A G A T H E . 

Is crime by proxy less a crime than that 

We do with our own hands ? What's to be done ? 

Thekon. 
He has dispatched a trusty messenger 
To Jupiter's great Oracle of Dodona, 
And the response is momently expected. 

Chbesttjs. 
I have no faith or hope that any answer, 
Or sage advice or solemn prophecy, 
Can ever turn his footsteps back again 
To the old, happy path he has deserted. 

Theeon. 

Then, Chrestus ! what is left but revolution ? 

All hate his rule — yea, even fear his voice. 

And scowl upon him as he passes -by 

In his abstracted moods. None dare approach him 

Or seem to mark him when the fit is on. 

His temper has become morose and fierce. 

Fiery, inconstant, and tyrannical. 

These traits were serviceable whilst they made him 

Invincible in battle. But at home. 

When slaughtered Trojans can not give his spleen 



A G A T H E . 271 

A bloody vent and calm his demon rage, 
Wherever he shall turn his baleful eye 
Some curse or sad calamity impends. 
I fear to think upon the state of things 
We may exited. 

Cheestus. 

Theron ! when the Gods, 
In dreadful chastisement of human sin, 
Have pushed their victim to the furthest verge 
Of madness, men in righteous self-defense 
May consummate the sentence. It was well 
This dark-soul'd fratricide took off with him 
The turbulent spirits of our realm to Troy. 
He served the common cause ; he was the tool 
Of Grecian glory, leaving us at home 
Ten years of prosperous peace. Sweet Agathe, 
Beared in the temple of our chaste Diana, 
Unfolded to each new admiring summer 
Her pure and radiant graces for our joy 
Herself almost a Goddess. Elpenor grew 
Meanwhile from boyhood to that golden age 
When life and hope are brightest. If Lycander 
Has reached the limit of his fatal chain. 



272 A G A T H E . 

'T is time to strike ; a worthier hand is ready 

To grasp the scepter. But let nothing rash, 

No vulgar rage, no impulse of revenge. 

Stain the pure power and virtuous dignity 

"Whereby our human hands co-work with heaven. 

Leave him alone awhile, for if I read 

Aright the deep philosophy of Fate 

His hands unconsciously will weave the web 

To tangle his own feet. Go through the city ' 

And test the opinions of the populace 

On his return. Myself will seek his palace, 

And see which way the , wind lies ; if it promise 

Propitious calm, or bode such coming storm 

As must subside in human wreck and woe. 

[Uxeuoit. 



SCENE II. 
Temple of Diana. — Agathe alone. 



Deeams which escape the memory may leave 
Their melancholy traces on the soul ; 
Else why should now a vague presentiment 
Of coming evil fall upon my heart, 



A G A T H E . 273 

Like tlie slow shadow of a pendent cloud 

Upon the plain beneath ? My only friends, 

The dear Elpenor and our noble Chrestus 

Are well and happy. The common heart of Greece 

Is joyous at our army's safe return, 

And beauty hastes to join her tender rose 

To the majestic laurel. What should I fear.? 

Alas ! no sorrow can disturb the good : 

Cares nestle only in the wicked breast. 

chaste Diana ! whose exalting presence 

Is brighter, purer, dearer to the soul 

Than thine own moon, at fullest, to the w^orld ; 

Here let me consecrate myself anew. 

Heart, mind and body to thy holy service, 

And so escape the power of evil thoughts ! 

{Enter Elpenor. 
Elpenor. 

Forever wrapt in pious meditation. 
Sweet Agathe ! Hast thou no voice of praise 
For deeds heroic, no free and sunny smile 
For Grecian triumph ? 

Agathe. 

Yes — ^for Grecian triumph, 

And tears for Trojan woes. that our warriors 

12^- 



274 A G A T H E . 

Had left such full and happy homes behind them 
As greet them here ! 

Elpenoe. 

What were the glory then 
Without the charm of danger ? What the toil 
Of war without the bloodshed of our foes ? 
The ten-year's siege is over ; Troy has fallen ; 
And the long blaze of military splendors 
Lives only now in song, unparalleled 
By aught that was before or ever shall be. 
Alas ! that I too was not earlier born ! 
Oh ! I remember, as 't were yesterday, 
That glorious morning when the gay-decked fleet 
Swung at loose anchor on the shining bay. 
The bright-plumed warriors rowed toward their 

ships 
With music and the stroke of thousand oars 
In thrilling unison. Their glowing armor, 
As yet undented by the Trojan steel, 
Flashed in the sun. Their parting shout of cheer 
Startled the echoes of the wooded hills. 
Thousands were crowded on the curving shore 
And waved their last adieu. W^hen the far ships 



A G A T H E . 275 

Stood boldly out towards tlie fretful sea, 
The mighty multitude in groups retired ; 
But yet I lingered, till the setting sun 
Gleamed faintly from the last receding sail, 
And dropped my tears upon the yellow beach 
That I was not a soldier. 

Agathe. 

Foolish boy ! 
Insensate to the unrecorded griefs 
Of our forlorn humanity. 

Elpenob. 

When I 
Come glorying homeward from some foreign war. 
And shouting citizens in exultation 
Draw me triumphant through the living streets, 
My Agathe will meet me with a tear, 
And turn her gentle eyes away, forsooth. 
Because my hands were gory. 

Agathe. 

No more war ! 
Is not the earth now drunk with human blood ? 
Ah ! turn thy face upon the golden grain 



276 A G A T H E . 

Waving continuous from field to field ; 
On pleasant cottages embowered in trees ; 
On herds and fiocks^ and children's merry play ; 
On rivulets leaping in the summer sun 
Through emerald meadows ; on the social gleam 
Of towers and towns along the winding bay : — 

Elpenor. 

Hold^ hold — I can admire thy brilliant pictures, 
But^ sweetest Sister ! sage Philosophy, 
And e'en benign Religion, sanction war 
When savage men conspire against our rights 
And break our peace. 

Agathe. 

But ah ! the time approaches 
When sated Strife shall sheathe his crimson steel. 
And every soul partake the mutual glow 
In which the loving sun would bind us all. 
Look at the stars upon a cloudless night ! 
Shining they move in circles which we know not, 
Making eternal music as they go : 
Undimmed rnd undisturbed, countless in number, 
They never jostle and they never fade. 



A G A T H E . 277 

In such array shall human hearts combine, 
And in the order and the peace of heaven 
Kegenerate the earth. 

Elpenor. 

Fair prophetess ! 
If our old heroes could but hear thy song 
They might cast off their mail and splendid helms, 
And hie contented to some mountain-side, 
To play the Doric reed and pasture sheep. 

Agathe, 

Thou ever turn'st my earnestness to sport. 

Elpenok. 
Then, not to sport — A low, portentous cloud. 
Just o'er the distant hill-tops swiftly risen. 
Comes darkening on apace. Suspicion, fear, 
And discontent are lowering on the brows 
Of soldiery and people. Some affirm 
The king is mad — 

Agathe. 

The kinff is mad ? Alas ! 



278 A G A T H E . 

Elpenok. 

Dark rumors are afloat of usurpation, 
Startling the city into wild surprise, 
And hurried whispers — with still darker hints 
Of coming revolution ; what to look for 
Men know not. 

Agathe. 
my sad, prophetic heart ! 

Elpenor. 

What truth is in it all, what falsity, 
What source is claimed, what issues are in- 
volved, 
I can not tell, all — all is dark as yet. 
But I would hold my spirit well prepared : 
And so I come with offerings to our Groddess, 
To heg her favor and her wise protection. 
To keep my heart serene amid all tumult, 
My judgment clear, my loyalty to truth. 
My love of country unimpeachable. 
I would not draw my sword but for true 

cause. 
And having drawn it, would not put it up 
Till Mercy bids and Justice shall approve. 



A G A T H E , 279 

Agathe. 

Bravely and wisely spoken^ my good brother ! 
Minerva smiles when Mars relenting wreathes 
His sword-hilt with the gracious olive branch. 
Go quickly ! meet me at the sacred altar ; 
I will array in white and deck with flowers, 
And we will offer up a lamb, in token 
Of our pure motives and the peace we sigh for. 

[Exit Elpenok. 

He too is sad ! Ah ! now I understand 
The melancholy mood which came o'er me 
By spiritual contagion. Far apart 
Their bodies may be, but the souls of those 
Who love are never sundered. I remember 
One summer evening, at the very moment 
When he was drowning in the boiling surf, 
(But Chrestus plucked him from the watery grave), 
A chill of terror crept into my heart. 
Far in the secret chambers of the temple. 
The King is mad ; the people discontented ; 
Truly the shadow deepens ! 

[Exit. 



280 A G A T H E . 



SCENE III. 
EooM IN THE Palace of the King. — Ltcander alone. 



Lycandek. 
I ne'er believed that things impalpable 
Could locate like the fixtures of a room^ 
And haunt the eye with their continual presence ; 
Closed or unclosed I see him. I have tried 
Every expedient to appease this fierce 
Offended shade, and deprecate his wrath ; 
Have offered wine and fruits upon his grave, 
And a whole hecatomb of living creatures. 
Prayers, tears, and protestations of remorse 
Have proved alike in vain. I now await 
The issue of another measure. 

{Knocldng is heard.l 

Who knocks ? 
At first I started up at every noise, 
Like the scared wild deer in his leafy lair ; 
But I have learned, by constant observation, 
The ghastly images which haunt my steps 



A G A T H E . 281 

Are voiceless. I am not afraid of sounds. 
Come in. 

[Enter Chrestus. 
Chrestus. 

Great King ! thy orders are obeyed. 

Ltcander. 

Hast thou overturned the accursed monument 
And ploughed the ground whereon its stones 

were reared ? 
Hast thou destroyed the great ancestral urn 
And strewed the royal ashes on the sea ? 

Chrestus. 
Thou art obeyed ! 

Ltcander. 
Thou mock'st me, lying Chrestus ! 
The monument still stands ; the urn retains 
Its untouched treasure in the old repose. 
I see thou askest with indignant eyes 
Why I should question thy veracity. 
The spirits of the dead cling to the spots 
Which hold their ashes. Move but these away 
And the complying shadows follow. This^ 



282 A G A T H E . 

Hadst thou obeyed my mandate to the letter, 
This nightmare of my life, like some poor dream, 
Had now departed. Look into that corner ! 

Chrestus. 
Where ? What ? Unhappy monarch ! I see noth- 
ing. 

Ltcander. 

Dost thou not see that wretched, bleeding man. 
Lying nearly prostrate underneath the rock ? 
His body writhes in mortal agony. 
With every muscle from its natural line 
Protruded and contorted, in the vain 
But unremitting struggle to arise. 
Canst thou not read the language of that face, 
Fear, torture, mute reproaches, and surprise ? 
Ha ! ha ! Too well thou know'st it is my 
brother ! 

Chkestus. 
Indeed I have seen nothing. It must be 
Some dreadful picture which was once impressed 
Too strongly on thy memory, and comes 
Back in reverberation of the light. 
Like sounds in echo. 



A G A T H E . 283 

Ltcander. 
Slave ! woulclst thou reproach, me 
With irrevocahle calamities ? 
I should have silenced thee in time. 

[Knocking. 

What now ? 
What other spy upon my misery ? 

[Enter Theron. 

Speak briefly, villain ! hast thou come to join 
This suborned witness in his perjury ? 

Thekok. 

I simply come to give thee the response 
Of the great Oracle of Jupiter 
In this sealed package. 

Ltcandeb. 

Let me have it quickly : 
Grant me, ye Gods ! one gleam of consola- 
tion ! 
Is mystery solved by mystery ? What is this ? 

[Reads aloud. 

" He ivlio tvoiild satisfy the mjured dead 
Must 'put the cTOivn upon the living head." 



284 A G A T H E . 

The living head ? what 's this ? what living head ? 
Theron and Chrestus, I command ye here, 
Great sages that ye are, to read me promptly, 
On pain of instant death, this Jovian riddle. 
What living head is this of which he speaks ? 
How ! Are ye silent ? Are ye struck with 

dumbness 
In punishment of some great treachery ? 
Or are ye pausing to concoct a sly 
And sure equivocation ? 

Thekon. 

0, Lycander ! 
The children thou commanded'st me to kill 
I gave to Chrestus. 

Chkestus. 
And I spared their lives, 
Eearing them for the service of the state, 
And to secure thee in thy last distress, 
Unhappy fratricide ! a hope of mercy 
By a late restitution. Thank us truly 
For this most pious fraud. Why dost thou glare, 
Gasping for breath ? 



A G A T H E . 285 

Lycander. 

Away ! 

Theron. 

Hear me^ Lycander ! 

Lycander, 
Nay, traitors ! not a word — now, list my will ! 
Bring me these children in three hours, or you 
And they, and all that aid you or abet. 
Shall perish by the sword ! Quick, from my sight ! 

{Exeunt Chrestus and Theron. 

They live ! Ah ! now I clearly see the cause 
Why my dead brother can not find repose 
Beyond the ever dark and silent river. 
This oracle would lead me to my ruin. 
Kestore the crown ? such weakness leave for fools ! 
I will disj^atch the living to the dead 
And so appease his rage — or not at all. 
Ha ! dost thou frown, inevitable shadow ? 
Frown on, dread phantom ! Canst thou stay my 

arm ? 

[Emt Lycander. 



286 A G A T H E . 



SCENE IV. 
Grove in Front of Diana's Temple. — Agathe and Chrestus. 



Agathe. 
Good Chrestus ! why so stern and melancholy, 
Haste in thy ste^^s, and frowns upon thy brow ? 
Would I had met thee in a brighter mood ! 
I have a small petition to prefer, 
And can not bear denial from thy lips. 

Chrestus. 
Or sad or gay did ever I refuse 
A boon to Agathe .? 

Agathe. 

Nay, thou art kind, 
And never did my mind misgive till now ; 
But this concerns the King. Why start'st thou so 
At the mere name of King ? 

Chrestus. 

The King, Lycander ? 



A G A T H E . 287 

What know'st thou of the King ? Better it were 
Thou never hadst been born than meet that King. 

Agathe. 

Chrestus ! his miseries have touched my heart. 
He is disquieted in mind and body. 
His strength is failing and his sleep is broken 
By fearful visions. 

Chkestus. 

Know'st thou his disease ? 

Agathe. 

Ten weary years of fierce, continuous war, 
Absence from home, privation and fatigue, 
The unremitting labors of the mind, 
Thirst, hunger, wounds, the torture of defeat, 
The more convulsing rage of victory. 
The scenes of carnage and perpetual riot, 
Might well occasion any mortal ill, 
E'en to the verge of madness. 

Chrestus. 

Wide the mark ! 

Agathe ! the king is mad, if madness 



288 A G A T H E . 

Be not too mild a term for a blind frenzy, 
With conscience for the torturer. 

Agathe, 

Alas ! 
What hath he done ? 

Chrestus. 
Done ? Ancient deeds of crime, 
Which innocent and happy men forget, 
But which grow brighter in the memoiies 
Of those who do them. 

Agathe. 

Ah ! I yearn the more 
To offer to the royal suiferer 
With chaste and eager hand the golden cup 
Of consolation. If his malady 
Be spiritual, spiritual must be the means 
Of restoration. 

Chkestus. 

Canst thou by persuasion 
Quiet the raging waters of the deep 
When they come foaming to the frighted shores ? 



A GAT HE. 289 

Canst thou with charms or priestly eloquence. 
Or with more potent tears and supplications. 
Drive the malignant Furies from the prey 
For which they howl ? 

Agathe. 

Not I, no ! not I, 
But can the gods not do it ? Dost thou doubt 
The graciousness of heaven, the potency 
Of sacred offerings made with holy rites, 
With humble prayers and penitential vows ? 
Chrestus ! let this miserable King 
Kneel at Diana's shrine, whilst I implore 
Her blessings on his head. The ghastly forms 
Will not pursue him to this sacred spot. 
Here the propitious glow of heaven perchance, 
Like sunshine gleaming o'er a wintry world. 
May melt into his heart. He will relent ! 

Chkestus. 

Sweet Agathe ! thou dost not know the monster 

For whom thou pleads t. He is accursed of heaven, 

His hand — ah, yes ! his soul is stained with blood : 

There is no spot unsullied in his nature. 

13 



290 A G A T H E . 

Shall he be welcomed to these sacred groves ? 

Thy trees would murmur forth their discontent ; 

Thy doves would fly the desecrated place ; 

Thy flowers would fade ; the statue of thy Goddess 

Would tremble on its silver pedestal : 

Famine or plague would scourge us for such wrong 

To her divinity. 

Agathe. 
Judge him not harshly. 

Chkestus. 

Harshly ? Why, he slew his only brotlier, 
Youngy gallant, generous, loving, beautiful ; 
He slew him for his crown. And at this moment 
Thyself, Elpenor, Theron, I and all 
Stand in the imminent jeopardy of life 
From his explosive passions. Even now 
He has commanded us to drag thy brother. 
And thee thj^self, sweet Agathe ! before him. 

Agathe. 

0, wherefore, noble Chrestus ? How have we 
Offended him ? •* 



A G A T H E . 291 

Chkestus. 

Who knows ? No one can tell 
What desperate turn his phantasies may take. 

Agathe. 
0, bring him here ! 

Chrestus. 

Art thou not now afraid 
To meet this tyrant ? 

Agathe. 

No ! I say again, 
Leaning upon Diana's radiant arm 
For her serene protection, bring him here ! 
Dost thou remember on a summer eve, 
Two years ago, we found an aged man 
Stretched sleeping in this cool and grateful shade 
From utter weariness ? His beard was Ions:, 
And hunger on his frowning countenance 
Had made its ghastly lines ; his feet were bare ; 
His hair was matted with the stems and burrs 
Caught in the woods ; his eyeballs, shot with 

blood, 
Were half revealed as if he feared to sleep. 



292 A G A T H E . 

This man had killed his children^ and remorse 
Had wrecked his reason, while the public wrath 
Banished the miscreant from the face of man. 
None gave him needful fire, or food, or shelter ; 
All cursed him as he passed. When from his sleep 
He started up, he raved, and called his children, 
Like a young mother wailing for her babe, 
The first-born, newly dead. I laid my hands 
Upon his trembling brow, and weejDing prayed 
Our Goddess to befriend the poor forlorn. 
Long time he gazed upon me, then he wept. 
Then fell asleep again ; ' this time he smiled 
As if his dreams were pleasant. When he woke 
'T was to the common light and lot of men ; 
His mind was rational, his spirit bowed 
In penitence and fervent gratitude. 
See what a child can do, if Heaven approve ! 
So let it be with this distracted King. 

Cjeckestus. 
Why waste thy sacred sympathy on a soul 
Impervious to all good ? This wretched King 
Spun for himself the web of destiny. 
The soldiers hate his savage rule ; the people 



A G A T H E . 293 

Abhor his name ; he wears the crown which Nature 

Gave to another. A thousand hands are ready 

To pluck the stolen jewel from his brow. 

Our plan is laid. We can not give him freedom 

To consummate his own unhappy fall, 

Involving as it might the woe of others : 

But our indignant steel is leaping forth 

For retribution. Why delay an hour 

To test thy merciful but hopeless scheme 

On such a man ? 

Agathe. 

Chrestus ! noble Chrestus ! 
Hast thou, who art so generous, good and wise, 
And hold such close communion with the Gods, 
Ere stooping to a rash conspiracy. 
Hast thou accorded to this luckless King 
The universal privilege of man : 
Lenient construction and the amplest chance 
Of reformation ? Let our sweet Eeligion 
Weave round his human heart its holy bands. 
They may withdraw him from the precipice 
To which he verges. He may yet confess 
His teiTible transgression and appease 



294 A G A T H E . 

The anger of the Gods and men by full 

And noble restitution. He may make 

Some expiation of the guilty past 

By an old age of honorable use. 

Chrestus ! good Chrestus ! grant this single boon 

To him — to me — ^aud to thy generous heart. 

Chrestus. 

Wellj well, so be it ! I will bring him here. 
And thou shalt have fair trial ; but I know 
Fruitless will be thy task. The twisted oak 
Yields not its sturdy branches to the wind 
Like the compliant willow. 

Agathe. 

Thanks J thanks ! 
I will prepare. 

Chrestus. 

One moment : Agathe ! 
I put this curious ring upon thy finger. 
Note well this hidden spring, which on the touch 
Shoots out a drop of subtlest poison. 

Agathe. 

Poison ? 



A G A T H E . 295 

Chrestus. 

Whoever gets it on his lip or breathes it 

Falls straightway helpless, breathless, and may die 

If he inhales enough. Kemember this. 

Agathe. 
What should I do with poison .? 

Chrestus. 

Keep it, child ! 
The man thou art to deal with is a madman, 
Impetuous, cruel and ungovernable. 
Thy virgin instincts might demand a weapon, 
Just such as this, invisible, unfailing, 
Quick in its action, — 

Agathe. 

Chrestus ! I am safe 
Beneath the shadow of Diana's statue 
From all the baleful movements of the stars, 
Much more from any thing that men can do. 

Chrestus, 

Take it, sweet Agathe ! and say no more ; 
I shall be happier thus. 



296 AGATHE, 

Agathe, 

Then let us haste. 

Chkestus. 
Stay for a moment ; Agathe ! my child ! 
An ominous shadow falls upon my heart 
At this consent. 

Agathe. 
That false and evil shadow 
Which sometimes comes o'er heaven's selected hour 
To mar its sweet impression ! Let us go. 
What can we dread when in our humble spheres 
We meekly strive to imitate the Gods ? 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

GrARDEN OF ChRESTUS. ChRESTUS AND ThERON. 



Chrestus. 

At first Lycander bitterly refused 

To see the priestess or propitiate 

Diana's favor ; and would scarcely listen 

With any patience till I had confessed 

That Agathe, the vestal of the temple, 

Was the fair daughter of his murdered brother. 

He then agreed. 

Theron. 

How did they meet ? 

Chrestus. 

We went, 

Myself in silence, he with broken words, 

13* 



298 A G A T H E . 

Part imprecatioDs on th' avenging shadow, 

Part blasphemies against the Gods, until 

We reached the green sward of the sacred grove ; 

When lo ! the bright and gentle Agathe 

Glided serenely toward ns through the trees 

As might the moon, with Dian for its soul. 

Shine softly down the azure field of heaven 

Beset with clouds. she was beautiful ! 

Her radiating goodness seemed to make 

A golden halo round her, which infused 

Such peace into the soul one could believe 

The music of Elysian bowers remote 

Was lulling him to sleep. The King, amazed. 

Looked wondering at her as she meekly knelt 

And kissed his hand. Kising, she welcomed him 

With such a radiant grace and eloquence 

Of word and look, that he appeared entranced, 

And mutely walked with her toward the temple. 

THEIiON. 

Think'st thou he will be softened ? 

Cheestus. 

For a while ; 
But the old shadows will come back again. 



A G A T H E . 299 

Elpenor must be king. Hast thou revealed 
The secret of his birth ? 

Theron. 

Yes, and he heard it 
Surprised indeed, but with a dignity 
Which proved his soul heroic. But he vowed 
Before the sun, and moon, and all the stars 
To wreak upon the frenzied fratricide 
A bloody and a swift revenge. 

Chkestus. 

Now see ! 
Nor time, nor place, nor thwarting circumstance, 
Nor education, nor the power of years 
Of strict seclusion, nor opposing lessons, 
Can e'er extinguish in the human breast 
The spark of our hereditary natures. 
This youth, the scion of a martial stock, 
A line of fierce, ungovernable kings, 
Whose food was blood and whose delight was war, 
Is ready in the twinkling of an eye 
To doff the robes of philosophic ease 
And wear the imperial purple. 



300 A G A T H E . 

Theron. 

He will grace it : 
For magnanimity subdues his pride^ 
Too fiery else, to a becoming luster. 
He granted my request, and waits with us 
To see if Agathe's sweet, plastic power 
Can mold the obdurate temper of the King 
To happier issues. If she shall succeed, 
He spares his life and orders banishment ; 
But if she fail, as fail she will, his sword 
Is consecrated to its awful duty. 

Chresttts. 

Mercy and Justice both are satisfied. 
All things look bright, yet, throbbing with sus- 
pense. 
My heart is wretched. sweet Agathe ! 
How tardily this daylight wears away ! 

[Exeunt 



A G A T H E . 301 



SCENE II. 
Interior of Diana's Temple. — Ltcander and Agathe. 



Ltcander. 
I WILL not leave thee^ Maiden ! I will dwell 
Here in this temple, ever in thy presence ; 
For at thy side there's peace and blessedness ; 
If thou but turn that radiant face away, 
The shadows quickly gather o'er my soul, 
And all is dark again. I will not leave thee ! 
Now by the Gods ! I will not. 

Agathe, 

King Lycander ! 
Thy crown, thy scepter, duty's high behest — 

Ltcander. 

Such plausive words of wisdom move me not ; 
I 'm no philosopher. In the new joy. 
New life, new heaven, which I receive from thee, 
I have forgotten my imperial home, 



302 A G A T H E . 

And never care to think of it again. 

Tliou art my heart, my hope, my life, my all ! 

Agathe. 

Attribute not, King, to a poor mortal 
The gracious blessing of the pitying Gods. 
This is the sanctuary of Diana, 
A chaste, secluded, consecrated spot. 
Where all things are endowed with magic life. 
The sheltered birds are here more musical. 
The little stream is edged with sweeter green, 
The winds are balmier and of gentler motion, 
The skies more bright, the season more propitious, 
The trees of richer growth, and fruit and flower 
Of fairer hue ; and here the human soul 
Which bows in innocent love and worship finds 
In joyous wonder more serene repose, 
A calmer life, a nearer sense of heaven 
Than elsewhere. King Lycander ! here confess 
The power, the love, the mercy of the Goddess, 
And bring a generous and repentant heart. 
Fit offering to her shrine, and thou shalt have 
Eternal freedom from thy torturing dreams,- 
And peace ineffable. 



A G A T H E . 303 

Ltcandee. 

Seductive Spirit ! 
Speak on, speak on ! There 's music in thy words, 
Which had those old astronomers but heard 
Instead of that wild music of the spheres. 
They ne'er had told its power, but died in silence, 
Enamored of the sound. Tell me no more 
Of Gods and Goddesses. Leave them to children, 
Or those whom sickness or calamity 
Makes childlike. Thou, sweet Agathe ! to me 
Art the sole genius of this happy place. 
Could I transport thy subtle spirit now 
To a bleak wilderness of Libyan sand, 
Or the still region of eternal ice. 
This radiant nature would spring up around thee, 
Subservient and complete — the placid sky. 
The lawn, the trees with ever-singing birds. 
The sweet variety of hill and dale. 
The golden beach, the shining sea, the temple — 
And the first men who found the magic spot 
Would kneel to thee, and call thee, chaste Diana ! 

Agathe. 
Forgive him, high-throned Goddess ! Lycander ! 



304 A G A T H E . 

I shudder at this awful blasphemy. 

Beware^ ingrate ! lest Diana take 

Her blessing from thee now. Must not the soul 

Which makes its reckless mock of sacred things 

Drink deeper guilt and with it deeper woe ? 

Think of the recent tortures of thy mindj 

And of the peace and joy which banished them. 

Beseech the Goddess, ever-merciful. 

To let thy ravings pass unpunished by. 

And dare no longer in her sanctuary 

Make a vain idol of a mortal worm, 

And question her supreme divinity. 

Ltcander. 
Eloquently spoken, my sweet deliverer ! 
But all such lessons fall on heedless ears 
In thy sweet presence. Hear me, Agathe ! 
Empire has lost its charm : the crown is only 
A fiery circle on an idiot's brow, 
Who bears its misery for its splendid show. 
We will depart, we will abandon all — 

Agathe, {weeping.) 

I never thought it would have come to this ! 
Chrestus ! Chrestus ! 



A G A T H E . 305 

Lycander. 

Love, my Agathe ! 
Will shortly dry thy tears ; now listen to me. 
There is an island of the Cycladds 
Green to the water with perpetual verdure. 
I passed it on my bounding way to Troy, 
And my prow lingered, deaf to glory's call, 
Within the blissful shadow of its hills. 
V It rose like Venus from the bright sea-foam, 
An ever-shining jewel of the deep ; 
Too small for base ambition's selfish dream, 
But large enough for love, whose happy kingdom 
Is boundless. There eternal beauty reigns ; 
The very air is musical ; the light 
Lies lovingly upon the shadowy cliffs 
And on the emerald sea ; the woods are full 
Of birdling voices prophesying love ; 
And canopies of purple cloud o'erhang 
The far, enchanted valleys. It can woo 
Soldiers from war and sailors from the wave, 
Philosophers from academic shades, 
Poets from fame and kings from ancient thrones. 
All men from common duties, common pleasures, 
To live entranced upon its flowery breast, 



306 A G A T H E . 

And all-forgetful of this human life, 
Beneath Olympus find another heaven ; 
There will we dwell — ■ 

Agathe. 

No more, thou wicked King ! 
There let thy tongue be palsied : the deep curse 
Is lowering o'er thee still. Hast thou forgotten 
That I am Priestess of Diana's temple ? 
Does not her gift, a chaste, ethereal life, 
Swell in my veins, and shall an earthly passion 
Stain the pure current ? Never, thoughtless 

Monarch ! 
Cold as the moonbeam on the sleeping wave, 
Cold as the new-fallen snow on Ida's top. 
Purer than both, must be the vestal's heart 
Who serves at great Diana's lustrous shrine ! 
Hence to thy crumbling palace ! Thou hast breathed 
Thy unchaste thought into my ear. Diana 
Frowns on her silver throne ; her dove of peace 
Flies from thy breast forever. Leave the temple ! 

Lycander. 
Nay, by the Grods thou fearest so, I will not ! 
Nor will I heed thy boasted sanctity, 



A G A T H E . 307 

The simple folly of an artless girl, 
Enamored of religion's high romance, 
And nurtured in the dim and solemn shade 
Of this old temple. To the world with me ! 
Thou shalt be queen, yea, if thou wilt — a Goddess, 
All men shall kiss thy feet. We will be happy — 
Happier than those who live in highest heaven 
And mock at human fate. 

[Embrdces her. 
Agathe. 

Spare me, Lycander ! 
Diana ! aid thy child ! 

Lycandek. 

When thus thou liest 
In maiden trust and beauty on my bosom 
Who — who shall pluck thee from my burning arms ? 
Which of the Gods ?— 

[Re pauses, slowly releases her and fixes his eye on vacancy.] 

Ha ! thou detested phantom ! 
Dost come again ? and this time with thy features 
Convulsed with rage, no longer pitiful 
With meek reproaches ! I had thought thine image 
Was blotted from the canvas of the mind. 



308 A G A T H E . 

Back to thy shades ! I laugh thee now to scorn ! 

I have protection from divinity. 

Thou, Agathe ! can'st rid me of this fiend ; 

One stately gesture of thy radiant hand 

Will banish it forever. 

Agathe. 

Ah ! I tremble 
With sudden coldness, for the spiritual life 
Which I receive from heaven has been withdrawn. 
Quick from my presence, or I faint. Away ! 
Hence to thy punishment ! The Gods forsake 
thee ! 

Ltcandbr. 
And thou — wilt thou forsake me, Agathe ? 

Agatbce. 

I can not help thee ; I have tried in vain. 
Praying and weeping for thee ; now I fear thee, 
And my whole soul by thy presumptuous sin 
Is chilled with horror. Thy impurity 
Is to my spirit like the loathsome air 
Of dungeons. 



A. G A T H E . 309 

Ltcakder. 

Then I do resume my power ; 
And tell thee, sorceress ! I a-m still a King. 
Thou shalt become subservient to my wishes, 
Or I will crush thee in this iron hand 
As I would crush a flower. 

Agathb, (Kneeling.) 

great Diana, aid me ! 

Ltcandbr. 
Truce to thy prayers and listen to my words ! 
I will convey thee to a secret chamber 
I know of in the temple. None will guess 
Thy whereabouts, and clamor is in vain. 
There will I leave thee to thy thoughts : there wait 
Till midnight, when the moon has risen, my coming ; 
And when I come, be ready to my will, 
Compliant as the shadow to the sun, 
Or violence shall break what will not bend ; 
With this addition, that thy nearest friends, 
Chrestus, thy sage old counselor and thy brothe ^ 
Shall hang as forfeit at my palace gate. 
Headless to-morrow. Come, my beauty ! 



310 AG A T HE. 

Agathe. 

Ah me ! 
Queen Goddess ! — 

[She faints. 
Ltcander. 

Then I must bear thee hence. Delicious burden ! 
It would be sweet to kiss this snow-white brow, 
And calm the pulses of this trembling heart, 
If this were love's commotion, and not fear's — 
She will recover soon — and then — at midnight ! 

[Exit^ hearing Agathe om^. 



SCENE III. 
A Chamber in the Palace.— Ltcander Asleep on a Couch. 



[Enter Elpenor. 
Elpenok. 

This royal house is tottering to its fall. 
The guardsmen of its gate in conscious fear 
Have all deserted it. Treason stalks in 
And treads its silent chambers like a ghost 
Unchallenged. Theron says 'tis time to strike. 



A G A T H E . 311 

The plot of gentle Agathe has failed ; 

The King returned at sunset from the temple 

Muttering and cursing as he came. 

Grood heavens ! 
Can a base fratricide forget his crimes^ 
And be refreshed with slumber ? Ah, no ! no ! 
I chid too soon the true, avenging fates : 
'T is but the painful counterfeit of sleep ; 
He lies like one whose body is at rest, 
But whose malignant and accursed soul 
Lurks in the face and struggles to betray 
Its hideous workings. Lo 1 he stirs, he wakes ; 
'T is well, I would not strike him in his sleep — 

Ltcander, {starting up.) 

Who talks of striking ? Ha ! thou coward Trojan ! 
Thrice have I chased thee round the walls to-day ! 
Now stand thy ground and let my thirsy steel 
Drink up thy base-born blood — Ha ! I was dream- 
ing ! 
Slave ! did'st thou speak of striking ? 

Elpenok. 

Lycander ! 
I am Elpenor, come to claim my crown — 



312 A G A T H E . 

Ltcandee. 
That name ! that voice ! Aha ! I see ! I see ! 
Thou hast at length cast oif the crushing load 
Of the great rock which bowed thy bleeding head. 
Thou hast arisen ! thou art aliye, brother ! 
And see ! there is no blood upon thy face — 
So youthfulj ha|)py, noble, bright in armor — 
Why, it was all a dream ! You are the King ! 
Years have not passed away. I am not old, 
And gray and sorrow-stricken. I had a vision 
Of a long war with Troy. Let me remember ! 

Elpenor. 

No trick, no subterfuge avails thee now ; 
My sword is consecrated to revenge : 
Kneel and unbare thy bosom ! 

Lycander. 

Softly, brother ! 
Speak not so fiercely : they will find us here ; 
Didst thou not hear a sound ? Answer me truty ! 

Elpenor. 

The curtain rustled in a transient gust 
That came through the open window. 



A G A T H E . 313 

Lycander. 

^T was not that — 
Not that — for it began last eve at sunset, 
A faint and undistinguishable noise, 
Less than the softest murmur of the sea ; 
But it increases, and it comes this way. 
I know not why, a dreadful apprehension 
Seizes me. Assure me that thou hearest it not ! 

Elpenor. 

Lycander ! 't is the troubled phantasy 
Of a spirit thoroughly diseased with guilt. 
"Why dost thou tremble so, and the big drops 
Stand on thy brow ? 'T is conscience tortures 

thee. 
And conjures these illusions of the sense ! 

Lycander. 

'T is no illusion, inexperienced boy ! 

I can interpret all, and yet I shudder 

To think of it. Nothing have I seen as yet ; 

They are not visible, and yet I know — 

From the dread palpitations on the air 

I feel — that they are coming. 

14 



314 A G A T H E . 

Elpenor. 

Who are coming ? 

Ltcandee. 

Softly — ^the Furies ! Ministers of vengeance ! 
Who else but they could thus unnerve me ? Who 

else ? 
Their imprecations load the trembling wind, 
Their awful steps, not Jove himself can stay, 
Cause the insensate earth to shudder. 'No altars 
Are ever reared to them, no vows are paid them — 
Deaf and implacable. — El{ enor ! listen ! 
Can it be possible the bloody fiends 
Give utterance to their thoughts in human speech ? 
Faintly but clearly canst thou not distinguish, 
Amidst their unintelligible jargon, 
My name, Lycander ? It is ! I hear it ! They 

come ! 

whither shall I fly ? Canst thou not save me ? 

[Embraces Elpekor's knees 
Elpenor. 

1 cannot kill this abject, grovelling wretch ! 
Unneeded sword ! just Heaven has done thy work. 
Eevenge itself must turn to pity here 



A G A T H E. 315 

And weep at its own purj)oses. I came 
Fully j)repared, with every thought attuned 
To be the minister of righteous vengeance, 
But the dread powers of Pluto have forestalled me. 
Shade of my father ! from thy heavens look down 
Upon this outcast, miserable man, 
And pardon my relenting spirit. Here 
Will I leave him to his punishment. 

Ltcandbr. 

Leave me ? 
leave me not ! There, there, I hear them yet ! 
Silence is terrible ; speak to me, stay with me, 
Mock me, spurn me, curse me, strike me, kill me, 
But leave me not ! He goes ! 

\Ex%t Elpenor. 

Jupiter ! 
Ruler of Gods and men, hear me but once ! 
If thou hast lightning in thine armory. 
And mercy left to wing one flaming shaft, 
Here let it fall ! 

{Sinks to tJce floor. 



•16 A G A T H E . 



SCENE IV. 
Midnight. — G-rove near Diana's Temple. 



Lycander alone. 

The stars now keep their watches, and I mine ; 
They for the silent blessing of the world, 
So Poets say — I for its malediction. 
The excess of misery has made me calm. 
The Furies pause, the phantoms disappear, 
And strange serenity comes o'er my spirit, 
Which, I am sure, presages nothing good. 
'T is but the depth and silence of the river 
Swift gliding on above the cataract, 
Before its awful plunge. I feel impelled 
By irresistible necessity 

Headlong upon my fate. E'o thought of mercy, 
No hope, no sweet compunction of remorse 
Softens my heart. Lycander ! promptly, boldly, 
Improve this lucid moment : as the traveler, 
Lost and benighted in the fearful woods, 
Catches the lightning's flash to find his way, 



A G A T H E . 317 

Strike for thy life ! My visitor was the son, 
Aud in my fit I took him for his father. 
He talked of vengeance, and he has good cause ; 
And when this young compassion has worn off 
The spirit will return. Then, let it come ! 
Unconscious youth ! thy movement should be 

speedy ! 
E'en while thou sleepest a spirit is abroad 
Will do a deed which mars thy peace forever. 
Treason, I think, is stirring in the wind. 
Chrestus and Theron I so much distrust 
That they shall die to-morrowc People mock me 
Or think me mad ; my crown has fallen to pieces, 
My scepter glided from my careless hands. 
The soldiery will hail Elpenor King 
And hunt me, like a dragon, with their spears. 
Gods ! has it come to this .^ Down — choking wrath — 
I would be luminously calm and cold 
In this emergency. My cujd of pleasure 
Has not been emptied to the very dregs ; 
The last best drop is left. 0, let me quaff it ! 
Another hour and Agathe shall fly, 
A desecrated, melancholy thing, 
Fit for the jeers and curses of the world. 



318 A G A T H E . 

Then will I seek Elpenor with this blade, 
Which has been almost blackened in the blood 
Of mighty heroes, and his shivering ghost 
Hmd to the waiting shades. The spirit of 

Troy 
Is mantling o'er me ; I could fight my way 
Through an embattled legion to my aim ! 

[Exit. 

[Enter Elpenor and Chrestus 
Elpenor. 

This way, good Chrestus ! I am sure I heard 
Yoices and footsteps here. 

Chrestus. 

Would it were he ! 
But do not strike or wound him, dear Elpenor ! 
Until the villain tells us where to find 
Our Agathe. Agathe ! my sweet ! 
My child, my Agathe ! 

Elpenor. 

0, it was strange 
She was not in the temple ! I misgive — 
I choke with apprehension — 



A G A T H E. 319 

Chrestus. 

Quick on his traces ! 
He knows, or none. Ye Gods ! guide us now ! 
Agatlie ! my child ! 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE V. 
Secret Chamber in the Temple. — Agathe Lying on a Couch. 



[Ejtter Ltcander, softly. 
Ltcander. 

Ye Gods ! what envious and forestalling thief 

Hath stolen into the garden of her body, 

And plucked the rose of life ? 

Who comes behind me ? 

[Elpenor and Chrestus rush in. 
Elpenor. 

Ha ! Have I tracked thee to thy secret lair, 
Thou royal wild beast ? — Chrestus ! what is this P 
Agathe ! asleep or dead ? Agathe ! 
Agathe, my sister ! 



320 A G A T H E . 

Ltcandbb, 

Wake her if thou can'st. 

Elpenor. 

Then hast thou killed her ? 

Ltcander. 

What and if I had, 
Thou need'st not pluck thy fledgeling sword so 

quickly, 
What if I had ? 

Chres^us. 

She stirs, she lives, see ! 

Agathe. 
What sound of angry voices has recalled me 
Back to the world again ? Such a sweet 

dream ! 
do not wake me from this drowsy bliss. 

Elpenor. 

O Agathe, my sister ! wake and tell me 
If this perfected villain hath yet wronged 
thee — 



A G A T H E . 321 

Agathe. 

no ! Diana was with. me. I have escaj^ied 
His violence. Has the moon arisen, my brother !. 

Elpenok. 

Kot yet, sweet sister ! But the eastern stars 
Stand all a-glow, in bright expectancy 
Of her swift coming. 

Agathe. 

Ah ! when she has risen 
And given Diana's blessing to the world, 
Diana's virgin will have passed away 
Into Elysium. 

Elpenor. 

Alas ! what does this mean r* 

Agathe, {to Chrestus.) 

Did'st thou not give me poison ? 

Chrestus. 

And didst thou use it ? 
Why — ^it was meant for him. Agathe ! 
cursed foresight ! 

14* 



322 A G A T H E . 

Elpenor. 

Chrestus ! this from thee ? 
Fly, fly, old man ! give her an antidote, 
A speedy, wonder-working antidote ! 
Immediately ! Old dotard ! art thou palsied ? 

Chrestus. 

Alas ! there is no antidote. 

Elpenoe. 

Sayest thou so P 
Then, by avenging heaven ! — 

Agathe. 

Elpenor, hold ! 
For shame ! down — ^i-ather down upon thy knees, 
Unthinking boy ! and thank the kind old man 
Whose wisdom saved us — ^me from worse than 

death — 
Far worse ! and thee from an eternal sorrow. 

Elpenok. 

Alas ! I see ! I see ! — 

Chrestus. 

Look, children, look ! 



A G A T H E . 323 

What change hath come upon the fierce old king ? 
He kneels, he foams, the Grods have stricken him. 

Ltcander. 

Hush ! hush ! I hear their footsteps in the hall. 
Your voices will attract them hither — ^hush ! 

Elpenor, (stabbing him.) 

Hence to thy Furies, miscreant ! 

Agathb. 

Elpenor ! 
Thou strikest a madman ! whom the Gods afflict 
Mortals should spare. 

Elpenor. 

No ! let him die. The earth 
Groans with his presence and the Furies seek him. 

Lycander. 

Not thou ! poor stripling ! but invisible powers 
Have cut my life asunder. Thee I scorn ! 
1 thought my blood was hot as living fire. 
This blood— can it be mine ? Ah ! there they 
come, 



324 A G A T H E . 

The infernal sisters, changing men to stone 
By a mere look ! How horrible ! My heart 
Trembles with unimaginable terror ! 
Ward off, ward off the unutterable curse ! 
Their faces and their garments drip with blood ; 
The hissing snakes are wreathing on their heads ; 
They raise at once their scorpion lashes at me ! 
aid me to my feet ! help me, shield me, 
They strike, they strike, mercy — mercy — 
mercy — 



[Dies. 



Chrbst'us. 

So terrible a death was never witnessed. 

Elpenor. 
Fit termination to so foul a life ! 
But see, see, his deadly work proceeds 
To its sad consummation. Agathe ! 
Agathe ! my sweetest, dearest sister ! 
Look up, speak to me. 

Agathe. .? 
Now the poison works ! 
Give me your hands — I can not see your eyes- 



A G A T H E . 325 

But well I know they are full of love and pity. 
Grieve not^ Elpenor ! It is better thus ! 
The vestal fires pass from my hands undimmed, 
The holy sanctuary undefiled ! 
I die^ as I have lived, a spotless virgin. 
Dear brother ! if hereafter thou shouldst see 
A lonely dove flit round the temple walls, 
Give it my name and feed it for my sake. 
A messenger it may be from the Gods 
Presaging happiness to thee and thine. 
Would I could kiss thy tears away, good 

Chrestus ! 
As I now kiss thy hand ! Farewell ! How 

strange ! 
How beautiful ! The room is full of children ; 
The very air is full of infant faces. 
So small, so bright, so beautiful, so many — 
And see, Elpenor ! Chrestus- ! see afar. 
Before the crowded gateway of the stars, 
Diana beckons me with shining hand ; 
Queen of the silver bow ! I come — I come — 

[Dies 

[Shouts and tumult without, 

{Enter Theron. 



326 A G A T H E . 

Theron. 

Hail King Elpenor ! The people crown thee 

King ! 
Alas ! What double tragedy is this ? 

Elpenok. 

Our tears inform thee better than our words. 
Scepter and crown to-morrow ! Thank the people, 
Kind Theron, for me, and bear hence this corse. 
Give it good burial for he was a King, 
Although unworthy. Leave me then alone. 
My thought, my heart, my life lies here to-night. 
bright, pure, beauteous, holy Agathe ! 

[Exeunt oil hut Elpenok, who kneels lyy the side of Agathe. 



NOTES 

TO THE POEMS. 



I. 

ODE ON THE BIETH OF A CHILD 

Page 13. 



As this Ode is pervaded with the spirit of the New Church doc- 
trine concerning Infants and Cliildren, for its better understanding 
and appreciation I cite liere a few passages from the writings of 
Swedenborg : . 

" That Infants are innocences is known : but that their innocence 
flows in from the Lord is not known. It flows in from the Lord 
because He is Innocence Itself, for notliing can flow in or be mani- 
fested in another except from some prior piincipie or cause, which 
is the thing itseh*. 

" Tlie Innocence of tlie Lord flows into the angels of the third 
heaven, where all are in the innocence of wisdom, and passes 
through the inferior heavens, but only through the innocences of the 
angels there, and thus immediately and mediately into infants : these 
are scarcely any thing at first but sculptile forms, receptible of life 
from the Lord through the heavens. But unless the parents also 
received that influx in their souls and in the inmosts of their minds, 
in vain would they be affected by the innocence of infants. — ( Gon- 
jugial Love, 395, '6.) 

"It has been told me from heaven that little children are espe- 
cially under the Lord's auspices, and that there is an influx from the 
inmost heaven where the state of innocence prevails, which passes 
through their interiors, affecting them in its transit. It is from this 
source that innocence displays itself in their faces and in some of 



330 NOTES. 

their gestures and becomes apparent, and it is this which so inti- 
mately aflects their parents, and produces the pecuhar emotion called 
parental love." — {Heaven and Hell, 277.) 

" That the sphere of the love of infants is in like manner universal 
is manifest from that lovo in the heavens where there are infants 
from the earth, and from that love in the world with men, with 
beasts and birds, serpents and insects. Things analogous to this 
love are also manifested in the vegetable and mineral kingdoms ; in 
the vegetable in that seeds are guarded with shells as with swatli- 
ing-bands, and moreover are in the fruit as in a house, and are 
nourished with juice as with milk. That something like this is in 
minerals is manifest from the matrices and the cases in which the 
noble gems and metals are stored up and guarded. 

" That innocence effects similar things with beasts and birds as 
with men is known. The reason that it produces similar effects is 
because eve7~y thing which proceeds from the Lord in an instant per- 
vades the universe. And because it proceeds by discreet degrees and 
continual mediations, therefore it passes not only to animals, but 
even beyond, to vegetables and minerals. It passes even into the 
earth itself, which is the mother of all vegetables and minerals ; for 
this in the time of Spring is in a state prepared for the reception of 
seeds as it were in the womb ; and when it has received, it as it 
were conceives, cherishes them, carries in the womb, brings forth, 
suckles, nourishes, clothes, educates, guards, and as it were loves the 
progeny from them, and so on." — [Conjugial Love, 389-397.) 

" What mnocence is and what is its nature is known to few in the 
world, and not at all to those who are immersed in evil. It appears, 
indeed, before men's eyes, displaying itself in the face, speech and 
gestures, more especially of little children; but still what it consists 
in is not known, much less that it is the principle in which heaven 
inmostly abides with man." — (Heaven and Hell, 276.) 

" Be it known, therefore, that every infant or little child, let him 
be born where he may, in the church or out of it, whether of pious 



NOTES. 331 

or of wicked parents, is received by the Lord when he dies and is 
educated in heaven, where he is instructed according to Divine 
order, and is imbued with affections of good, and through them with 
knowledge of truth. Every person who thinks from reason may he 
aware that no one is born for hell, but all for heaven, and that if a 
man goes to hell the blame is his own, but that no blame can attach 
to infants or Httle children."— (5ea?;e» and Eell, 329.) 

*' As soon as infants are resuscitated, which takes place immedi- 
ately after their decease, they are carried up into heaven, and are 
committed to the care of angels of the female sex, who in th? life of 
the body had been influenced by a tender love for litt'.e children and 
at the same time by love for God. As these angels had while in the 
world loved all infants with a tenderness like that of their mothers, 
they receive the little ones committed to their charge as if they were 
their own ; and the infants on their part, from an inherent inclina- 
tion, love them in return as their mothers. Every one has as many 
infants under her care as fiom spiritual maternal love she desires." — 
{Heaven and Hell, 332.) 

" The state of infants in the other life far surpasses that of infants 
in the world, because they are not invested with a ten-estrial body, 
but with one like those of the angels. The terrestrial body in itself 
is heavy or dull. It does not receive its first sensations and first 
motions from the interior or spiritual world, but from the exterior or 
natural, on which account infants in the world must learn to walk, 
to use their hmbs and talk, and even the senses, as those of sight 
and hearing, must be opened in them by use. Not so m the other 
life. There, being spirits, they immediately begin to act according 
to their interiors. They walk without previous practice, and talk 
with the same readiness, only they speak at first from common or 
general affections, not yet perfectly distinguished into ideas of 
thought ; but they are speedily initiated into these also, and the 
reason this is so easily effected is because their exteriors are homo- 
geneous to the interiors." — {Heaven and Hell, 331.) 



332 NOTES. 

"It may seem a paradox, nevertheless it is most true, that the 
angels have a clearer and fuller understanding of the internal sense 
of the "Word when it is read by little boys and girls than when it is 
read by grown-up persons who are not principled in faith grounded 
in charity. The reason is, as I have been informed, because little 
children are in a state of mutual love and innocence, consequently 
their receptive vessels are extremely tender and almost of a celestial 
nature, so as to be pure faculties of reception, which are therefore 
capable of being disposed by the Lord for the purpose, although this 
does not come to their consciousness, except by a certain sensation of 
delight suitable to their state and genius." — (Arcana Coelesiia, l^tG.) 

" So long as goodness and truth are possessed by man, whether it 
be in his childhood or in any other period of his life, evils and falsi- 
ties can effect nothing ; that is, evil spirits can not attem^Dt to do 
any thing or to inject any evil. This is very evident in the case of 
infants, of well-disposed children and of simple-hearted persons, with 
whom although evil spirits or the very worst of the diabohcal crew 
were present, still they could not afiect any thing, but are kept in 
subjection. The reason why at this time they are in a state of sub- 
jection or servitude is, because man has not yet acquired to himself 
a sphere of lusts and falsities. For it is not allowed evil spirits and 
genii to operate, except on those things which man has actually 
procured to himself, not upon those which he receives hereditarily ; 
wherefore before man procures to himself such spheres the evil 
spirits are in servitude, but as soon as ever he does, then the evil 
spirits infuse themselves into him and endeavor to obtain the do- 
minion." — (Arcana GoelesUa, 1667.) 

" That goodness is the principle which first of all is appropriated 
to man, is manifest from his infancy and early childhood ; for it is 
well known that at that time he has the good of innocence and the 
good of love towards his parents and nurses, and the good of charity 
towards infant companions. The good flows in from the Lord with 
infants^ that it may serve in after years for the first 2^Tinciple of the 



NOTES.- 333 

Lord's life appertaining to man, and iherehy for a plane to receive 
truths ; this also is preserved wiili man when he grows up, if he does 
not destroy it by a Ufe of evil and faith in the false thence derived." — 
[Arcana Coelestia, 10-110.) 

" In order to the better understanding of the nature of remains, 
let it be observed that they are not only the goods and truths which 
a man has learnt from his infancy, out of the Lord's Word, and 
which were thereby impressed on his memory, but they are likewise 
all states thence derived — as states of innocence from infancy — states 
of love towards parents, brothers, teachers and friends — states of 
charity towards the neighbor, and also of mercy towards the poor and 
needy ; in a word, all states of goodness and truth. These states, 
with their goods and truths impressed on the memory, are called 
remains, which remains are preserved in man by the Lord, and are 
stored up, uncotisciously to himself, in his internal man, and are care- 
fully separated from the things of man's propriwn, that is, from evils 
and falses. All these states are so preserved in man by the Lord 
that there is not the smallest of them lost." — [Arcana Coelestia, 561.) 

"Metals are equally significative with all other things in the 
Word. Gold in the Word signifiies celestial good, whicli is inmost 
good. Hence it was that the ancients, who were skilled in the 
science of correspondences, called the ages after the metals. The 
first age they called the golden age because then reigned innocence 
and love and thence wisdom." — (Apocalypse Explained, 10.) 

" Because these angels (those of the Golden Age, or Most Ancient 
Church) were of such a character, they dwell nearest to the Lord, 
from whom their innocence is derived ; they also are separated from 
their proprium, so that they live as it were in the Lord. In out- 
ward form they appear simple and to the '^yes of angels of the infe- 
rior heavens as little children, thus, as of small stature. They also 
appear not to possess much wisdom, though they are the wisest of 
the angels of heaven. These angels also are naked, because naked- 
ness corresponds to innocence. — [Heaven and Hell, 280.) 



334 NOTES. 

II. 

'^OUE THREE CHILDEEN." 

Page 37. 

" Our gold, our myrrh, our frankincense." 

" By gold, frankincense and myrrh are signified all things whicli 
relate to the good of love and faith in the Lord ; by gold the things 
which are of the good of love, by frankincense the things which are 
of the good of faith, and by myrrh the things which are of each in 
externals. The reason why the wise ones from the East offered 
those things was. because amongst some of the orientals from ancient 
times there remained the science and wisdom of the ancients, which 
consisted in knowing and seeing celestial and divine things in those 
things which are in the world and upon the earth. For it was a 
thing known to the ancients that all natural things corresponded to 
spiritual things, and were representative and thus significative, as is 
also evident from the most ancient books and monuments of the Gen- 
tiles. Hence it was that they knew that gold, frankincense and 
myrrh signified the goods (good aFfections and thoughts) which were 
to be offered to God." — (Swedenborg's Arcana Ccekstia, 92, 93.) 



III. 

CHILDHOOD." 
Page 31. 



" There are certain societies of Angels, and those many in num- 
ber, which have the care of infants. They are chiefly of the female 
sex, consisting of such as in the life of the body have had the most 
tender love towards infants. Tliese angelic spirits discoursed more- 
over concerning influits on earth, declaring that immediately on their 
nativity there are angels attendant on them from the heaven of inno- 



NOTES. 335 

cence, and in the succeeding age angels from the heaven of the tran- 
quihty of peace, afterwards angels from the societies of charity, and 
nest other angels in proportion as innocence and charity decrease 
with the infant children, and lastly, when they become more adult 
and enter into a life aUenated from charity, angels indeed are pre- 
sent, but more remotely, and this according to the ends of life which 
the angels direct by continually insinuating good ends and averting 
evU ones ; and in proportion as they are able or unable to affect this, 
their influx is nearer or more remote." — [Swedenborg^s Arcana Coeles- 
tia, 2,302, 3.) 



IV. 
"THE CHILD AISFD THE RIYULET." 

Page 51. 

" That there is a relation to man in all things of the created uni- 
verse, may indeed be known from what has been adduced, but can 
only be seen obscurely ; whereas in the spiritual world it is seen 
clearly. In that world also there are all things of the three kingdoms, 
in the midst of which is the angel, who sees them about him, and 
knows that they are representations of himse]f; yea, when the in- 
most principle of his understanding is opened he knows himself and 
sees his image in them as in a glass."— (/Su;edti?^&orgf'5 Divine Love 
and Wisdom, 63.) 



V. 

"TO A ROSE." 

Page 66. 



" Heaven, in the Word in its internal sense, does not signify the 
heaven or sky which is apparent to the eyes of the body, but the 
kingdom of the Lord universally and particularly. He who looks at 



336 NOTES. 

things internal from those that are external, when he views the 
heavens or skj^, does not think at all of the starry heaven but of the 
angelic heaven. When he beholds the sun, he doss not think of the 
sun, but of the Lord as the sun of heaven. So when he sees the 
moon and the stars also, yea, when he beholds the immensity of the 
heavens he does not think of material immensity, but of the immense 
and infinite power of the Lord; so also in other instances, since there 
is nothing but what is representative. He likewise regards eartlily 
objects in the same view. Thus, when he beholds the first dawn of 
the morning light, he does not think of the day-dawn, but of the rise 
of all things from the Lord, and their progression to the full day of 
wisdom. In like manner when he looks on gardens, shrubberies, and 
beds of flowers, his eye is not confi.ned to any particular tree, its 
blossom, leaf or fruit, but he is led to a contemplation of the celestial 
things represented by them, neither does he behold only the flowers, 
their beauties and elegancies, but is led also to regard the things 
which they represent in the otlier life ; for there is not a single object 
existing in the sky or in the earth which is beautiful and agreeable, 
but what is in some way representative of the Lord's kingdom." — 
(Arcana Coelesiia, 1,807.) 

" I have discoursed witli the angels concerning representatives, 
observing to them that in the vegetable kingdom on earth there is 
nothing but what in some measure represents the kingdom of the 
Lord. They replied that every thing in the vegetable kingdom which 
is beautiful and ornamental derives its origin througli heaven from 
the Lord, and that when the celestial and spiritual things of the 
Lord flow into nature, such objects of beauty and ornament are actu- 
ally created, and that thence proceeds the vegetative soul or hfe. 
Hence also come representatives, but this, being unknown in the 
s^'orld, was called a heavenly arcanumJ' — -{Arcana Coelcstia, 1,632.) 



NOTES. 337 



VI. 
"THE WILD EE-UNION." 

Page 86. 

This Poem, -which may appear strange or mystical to some read- 
ers, is designed to illustrate the impossibility of divorcing the Good 
from the True. The union of the G-ood and True is the heavenly 
marriage so frequently mentioned by Swedenborg, and so constantly 
alluded to in the internal sense of the Bible. It is indeed by the 
unition of the Will-principle or living element with the Understand- 
ing-principle or thinking element that every useful or practical effect 
is brought about either in the spiritual or natural worlds. The es- 
sential point in regeneration is the co5peration of the Understanding 
illuminated by Divine "Wisdom, a light with the Will actuated or 
impelled by Divine Love or heat. The same heavenly marriage is 
represented by the union of Father and Son — by the mystical love 
of the Lord and his Church— and universally by the conjugal relation, 
in whicli woman represents the Will and man the Understanding. 

Every thought, or truth which is an object of thought, has a cor- 
responding emotional state of the soul or love, created with and 
organically attached to it. We are " saved by faith," because the 
truths of the Word stored up in the mind call down from heaven 
their corresponding good states of the life, which we generalize as 
the Christian graces and virtues. 

The masculine and feminine elements of the conjugial love exper- 
ience super-eminently this organic attraction after an eternal unition. 
Separated forcibly for awhile by evil influences, the emotional ele- 
ment is represented in the poem as reappearing in its body, which it 
reanimates simply to serve as a medium for bringing it into contact 
with its corresponding intellectual principle. Contact having been 
effected, spiritual attraction prevails over mere chemical affinity, and 
the spirits are supposed to ascend to heaven together. 

15 



338 NOTES. 

VII. 
"BBAUTIFIJL! DIVIE"ELY GLOWIITG." 

Page 118. 

" Us who are no longer twain." 

" Since the inhabitants of heaven are from the human race, con- 
sequently the angels who occupy it are of both sexes ; and since it 
"was ordained from the creation that the woman should be for the 
man, and the man for the woman, thus that the one should be the 
other's, and since the love that it should be so is innate in both, it 
follows that there are marriiiges in the heavens as well as on earth. 
Marriages in the heavens, however, greatly differ from the marriages 
on earth," 

" In the heavens, marriage is the conjunction of two into one 
mind; the nature of which conjunction shall be first explained. The 
mind consists of two parts, one of which is called the understanding, 
the other the will. AYhen those two parts act in unity, they are 
then called one mind. In heaven the husband acts as that part 
called the understanding, and the wife as that which is called the 
wUl. When this conjunction which exists in the interior descends 
into the inferior parts which belong to the body, it is perceived and 
felt as love, and the love thus felt is conjugial love. This is termed 
in heaven dwelling together, and it is said of such that they are not 
two but one. Therefore in heaven two married partners are not 
called two, but one angel," (moreover they actually appear to others 
at a distance as in one body, and they enjoy a continued sensation 
themselves of the oneness or identity of their bodies.) " That there 
should exist such a conjunction of the husband and wife in their 
inmost parts, which belongs to their minds, results . from creation 
itself." (In other words, souls are created as sexual pairs, and the 
relation of husband and wife is organic and eternal.) — See Heaven and 
Uell, 366, 7, 8, and the succeeding paragraphs on Marriages in Heaven.) 



NOTES. 339 

VIII. 

"ORLEANNA." 
Page 121. 

"We shall meet and love in heaven." 

" That the Lord provides similittides for those who desire love truly 
conjugial, and that, if they are not given in the earth he provides them 
in the heavens. The cause is this, that all marriages truly conjugial 
are provided of the Lord ; but in what manner they are provided in 
the heavens I have heard described by the angels, thus : That the 
Divine Providence of the Lord is most particular and most universal 
concerning marriages and in marriages, because all the enjoyments 
of heaven stream forth from the enjo}Tnents of conjugial love, as 
sweet waters from the stream of a fountain, and that on this account 
it is provided that conjugial pairs be born, and that these are con- 
tinually educated under the auspices of the Lord for their several 
marriages, both the boy and the girl being ignorant of it, and after 
the completed time, that marriageable virgin and young man meet 
somewhere as by fate and see each other ; (if not on earth surely in 
the other life), and that there, as from a certain instinct, they in- 
stantly know that they are partners, and as if from a certain dictate 
within think in themselves, the young man that she is mine, and the 
virgin that he is mine, and after this has been seated for some time 
in the minds of both, they deliberately speak to each other and be- 
troth themselves. It is said, as if from fate's instinct and dictate, and 
it is meant from divine providence because whilst this latter is not 
known it appears thus : for the Lord opens internal similitudes that 
they may see each other." — [Gonjugial Love, 229.) 



340 NOTES. 

IX. 

"MYSTIC UlSriOE" " 

Page 185. 

This Poem refers to the New Church doctrine of regeneration ; but 
as the subject is metaphysical in its nature, I have here given the 
truth but a poor and inadequate expression. The following brief 
expUcation will perhaps enable the reader to see the Poem in a better 
light. 

The "dead" are the spiritually dead, even while living in the 
natural world. The "resurrection," or progress from death unto 
life — in other words, regeneration, takes place by union with the 
Divine Humanity of our Lord. Jehovah, the Father, or Divine 
Love, took on himself a weak and infirm human nature derived from 
the Yirgin Mary — subject to all of our trials and temptations, yet 
without sin. This human nature is called Christ, or the Son of G-od. 
Thus the "beautiful Ideal" becomes incarnate in the "grosser Real." 
Christ purifies and elevates this infirm human nature, "the Father 
working in him" — making it fully Divine, "re-molding it by pat- 
terns fi'om above." We are to "follow him in the regeneration;" as 
the Father worked through him so he is to work through us. In 
other words he gives us a new internal or spiritual man, and we are 
to bring our external or natural life into sti^ict accordance and cor- 
respondence with it — so that it shall r'esemble the mystic union of 
soul and body. This labor of regeneration is represented by the six 
days of creation followed by the " Sabbath" of victory and repose. 
" Heaven and earth" represent our inner and outer, or spiritual and 
natural life thus brought into operative harmony. 



NOTES. 341 

X. 

"DESCENSUS AVERNI." 
Page 198. 

This Poem is written in accordance with the science of corres- 
pondence, and conveys spiritual instruction through the medium of 
natural imagery. The subject is the origin of evil, or the fall from 
heaven, and involves the same spiritual truths which are concealed 
in the narrative of Eve's temptation and the expulsion from the gar- 
den of Eden. I will recapitulate them in condensed form, referring 
the inquisitive reader to the first volume of Swedenborg's Arcana 
Codestia for a luminous exposition of this most difficult question in 
Revealed Religion. 

The essential feature in the process here described is the passage 
of the soul from a spiritual into a natural state of life — which is a 
descent from an interior or higher to an exterior or lower plane of 
thought and affection. To make this more clear we must briefly 
define the difference between the spiritual and the natural man. 

The spiritual man occupies an interior stand-point, and he thinks 
of nature from the Lord as a fixed center. Nature is to him a grand 
panorama or mirror wherein are objectively seen represented the 
myriads of spiritual things which belong to the Lord's kingdom. 
Tiiis is the condition of the angels in heaven, and was also the first 
state of men upon earth. By becoming natural or external men 
they fell. The natural man occupies an exterior stand-point and 
views the Lord and all things of his spiritual kingdom from Nature 
as a fixed center, consequently either not at all or in great obscurity. 
He interprets every thing in a sensuous manner, and finally ends in 
believing nothing which he can not see, hear, taste or handle, and 
make the subject of physical experiment or analysis. Indeed, so 
spiritually blinded does he become that in his infatuation he calls 
this gross naturalism the highest wisdom. He can not conceive that 



342 NOTES. 

the human mind was ever constituted so differently as precisely to 
reverse his favorite mode of philosophizing, and at last any thing 
like spiritual thought he denounces as mysticism. 

How did man fall from the lofty state of intuition or spiritual per- 
ception of truth ? By listening to the seductions of the senses. The 
evidence of the senses, unenhghtened by a higher spiritual and re- 
vealed philosophy, which explains the senses themselves, must lead 
entirely astray. Many tilings appear to the senses to be true which 
are only apparently true, and the great mass of truths never appear 
to the senses at all. The sun appears to revolve around the earth 
but does not ; the heavens above appear to terminate in a blue vault 
but do not. Objects appear to be in rapid motion and we ourselves 
appear to be stationary, when the very reverse may be the case. 
Sensation appears to reside in the surface of our bodies, but its real 
seat is far within ; much deeper indeed than the natural body itself. 
Our thoughts appear to originate ■ spontaneously with ourselves, yet 
they have come to us always by influx from angels and spirits. Our 
hfe appears to be our own, inherent with and inseparable from our 
organization, and yet the Lord alone has life and we are merely re- 
cipient vessels or organs of life. Man by thinking naturally or sen- 
suously divorces his mind from faith in God and from insight into 
spiritual things, and finally natural appetites supercede spiritual 
aspirations, and from being merely sensuous in thought he becomes 
sensual in life. 

In the Poem before us, as in every jot and tittle of the Biblical 
narrative of the fall, these great truths are typified. Tlie youth wan- 
dering from the "holy meridian" of heaven down to its crystalline 
borders, represents the Understanding gradually receding from the 
interior to the exterior stand-point above sjDecified, as from the 
center to the circumference of a circle. It is then that it begins to 
doubt and ponder upon the "awful riddle of life." In this state heav- 
enly things (and the Lord in them) which have been received im- 
plicitly and perfectly into childlike affections, become to be made 



NOTES. 343 

the matters of intellectual investigation. In hieroglyphic language, 
the sun "dwindles to a star," charity is becoming mere faith. 

Pursuing its researches into the outermost or natural sphere of 
life, the Understanding yields itself up to the guidance of the senses. 
The serpent in all ancient writings, hieroglyphic, mythical or corre- 
spondential, represents our sensuous sphere of thought, or the mode 
of philosophyzing from the evidence of the senses. This serpent tells 
us that it is not God's hfe but our own Hfe which animates us, and 
we forthwith " become as gods" in our own eyes, and begin a life 
separate from God. His leading the Youth to a fountain of water 
wherein he has injected his poison, indicates that the Understanding 
becomes deceived by the appeal which the senses make to merely 
natural or apparent truth, water representing that truth. The inter- 
ference of the Dove represents the effort of some remains of innocence 
with its intuitional light to reject the subtle sophistries of the senses. 
The change in his external world is representative of the difference 
between thinking spiritually and thinking naturally. The change 
first happens in his mind, and then by correspondence in the things 
which appear around him. The " crystalline walls" have become a 
mere "iron door," and "the cataract of God's Light is changed to 
" a region of stone-heaps and shadows." Doubt, darkness, confu- 
sion have succeeded to the order and beauty of angehc life and the 
light of angehc wisdom. 



XI. 

"THE MAGIC GARDEN. 

Page 202. 

This Poem and the " Descensus Averni" were written to illus- 
trate the most ancient style of composition in the world, viz., by cor- 
respondences. Natural objects, whether singly or in groups, various 
and shifting scenery and transformations, even the hiptorical devel- 



344 NOTES. 

opment of facts, may be used as the mediums or vehicles for spiritual 
thought. This interior thought is not visible on the surface, and is 
only brought out by the proper key, namely, a knowledge of the 
science of correspondences. The whole Bible was written on this 
principle, and Swedenborg has not invented but re-discovered the 
key which was lost. One familiar with Swedenborg's expositions 
wiU see the meaning of this Poem almost at a glance, but for those 
to whom the whole principle is stiU an unrevealed secret, I here ap- 
pend a brief statement of the internal or spiritual sense. 

Verse 1st. — There is a spiritual state of mind based upon good 
affections, and elevated far above the sensuous sphere, concealed 
from the uninitiated or merely natural man by a cloud or veil of literal 
appearances. " G-arden" throughout the Bible represents a state of 
intelligence and wisdom. The "air" indicates its spirituality or ele- 
vation. Upheld by " mountains," signifies based upon affection; the 
" mountain of the Lord" means a state of lofty and sublime love to 
God. " Clouds" invest or envelop interior things — as the letter of 
the "Word does its internal. Our Lord's coming in " the clouds of 
heaven" at the latter day means that he will elucidate the true mean- 
ing of the letter by the descent and manifestation of the internal 
sense or spiritual signification from within. These meanings are not 
arbitrary but fixed and eternal. 

Yerse 2d. — In that state of spiritual intelligence we perceive that 
what we call Nature or the outward world is always merely phenom- 
enal and representative of interior things, and not actually causative 
or existing of itself 

Verses 3d and 4th. — The only real and eternal things are the 
organic forms of the soul and their infinitely varying states, which 
by pecuHar spiritual laws are scenically projected or made to appear 
as it were out of the mind and independent of it. This objective world 
is the image of the subjective one, every natural object in it represent- 
ing and being caused by some spiritual form or essence in the mind. 



NOTES. 345 

Yerse otu. — "When in this elevated sphere of thought we ponder 
upon the great question of Duty, the "sacred enigma" why we are 
here, and what we are to do ? we are instructed from within by 
symbolic scenes having a most beautiful and apparently independent 
externeity or outness. 

Yerse 6tii. — Our unregenerate ruling love or passion appears to 
us in the most enchanting form. "Woman always represents the 
afifectional element. 

Yerses 1th and 8th. — The unregenerate Understanding or Intel- 
lect recognizes as exceedingly beautiful and fascinating that form of 
evil affection which corresponds to itself, and which it surveys from 
its own false stand-point. 

Yerses 9th and 10th. — This love of self and the world would 
teach us that it is right and the dictate of heaven for us to be guided 
by our own natural instincts and passional attractions, and its influx 
produces in the sphere of consciousness the most disorderly emo- 
tions, which must terminate in sorrow and shame, although pro- 
nounced suprem^ely delightful by the unregenerate mind. 

Yerse 11th. — Every thing beautiful to the eye or fragrant to the 
sense is the outbirth of some good affection flowing from the Lord 
and received into the souLs of angels or men. 

Yerse 12th. — The Church of the Lord, or the organic embodiment 
of Good and Truth, so as to be presented to the intellectual con- 
sciousness, (in the individual soul represented by love to the Lord 
and the neighbor) appears under the form of a beautiful virgin. 

Yerse 13 th. — She offers for our spiritual reception and apprecia- 
tion the pure truths of the Word, the simple and precious treasures 
of Revelation, unfalsified by love of self and the world. 

Yerse 14th. — This is the true and living water, that blessed 
spiritual truth which inculcates that conjoined exercise of faith 
and charity which is the heavenly marriage productive of eternal 
peace. 

Yerse 15th. — The False springing from the evil detests the Truth 

]5* 



346 NOTES. 

whicli emanates from the Good. Truth feels only a tender compas- 
sion for the False. 

Verse 16th. — The Church of the Lord is our spirituol mother, 
who nourishes us with her sacred truths and draws us into a hfe of 
cheerful obedience by gently leading our affections. 

Verse IIth. — "We are enlightened by the spiritual truths of the 
Church to perceive that the love of self and the world is really a 
despicable, miserable creature, which, under a false show of superior 
pleasure, is actually tortured by the lusts of the senses. 

Verse 18th. — And that said self love is the deeply hidden cause 
of all the hideous or poisonous objects in nature, which are created 
as its outbirths, and correspond to all its evil and selfish passions. 

Verse 19th. — The spiritual truths thus acquired are fixed among 
the constellations of the inner or heavenly mind, and when we de- 
scend to our natural sphere of life again, our hearts are in that state 
of love to the Lord and the neighbor which is represented by pray- 
ing with our faces towards the East. '" Stars" in the Bible always 
mean spiritual truths or knowledges of interior things. The " stars 
falling from heaven" mean the loss of spiritual intelligence by the 
Church, &c. The East where the sun rises, in the supreme sense 
means the Lord himself: in a secondary or proximate sense, it sig- 
nifies that heavenly frame of mind in which we are receptive of his 
divine life in our hearts : hence the ancient temples all pointed towards 
the East, and praying with the face towards the East was a general 
custom derived from correspondence, and perpetuated long after the 
worshippers had lost a clear perception of its original significance. 



NOTES. 347 



XII. 

"SPIRITUAL VISION. 

Page 207. 

This Poem is based upon one of the most beautiful laws of the 
spiritual world, viz., that the objective scenery surrounding a spirit 
is not fixed as it is in the material world, but plastic, and the changes 
which it undergoes are representative of the subjective changes 
occurring in the mind of the spirit. To illustrate this more plainly, 
I make an extract from Swedenborg, for which, although treating 
of a dehcate subject, I offer no apology, since it is not only artistic- 
ally beautiful but pregnant with a moral lesson greatly needed in 
this degenerate age: 

"I heard a certain spirit, a young man fresh from the world, boast- 
ing himself of his scortations, and among the insolences of his boast- 
ing, he gave vent also to this, ' What is more doleful than to imprison 
one's love, and to live alone with one woman ? And what is more 
delightful than to set the love at liberty ? Do not those things which 
are obtained by cunning, deceit and furtive arts delight the inmosts 
of the mind ?' On hearing these things the by-standers said. Do not 
speak thus ; you know not where you are, and with whom you are ; 
you have but lately come hither : hell is under your feet and over 
your head is heaven. You are now in the world which is mediate 
between these two, and is called the world of spirits. Here arrive 
and here are collected all who depart from the world, and here they 
are explored as to their quality, and the evil are prepared for hell 
and the good for heaven. Perhaps also you were taught by preach- 
ings in the world, that whoremongers and harlots are cast down into 
nell, and that chaste consorts are elevated into heaven. At this the 
new comer laughed, saying, ' What is heaven and what is hell ? Is 
not heaven where one is free ? And is not he free who is permitted 
to love as many as he likes ? And is it not hell where one is a 



348 NOTES. 

slave ? And is he not a slave who is obliged to adhere to one ?' 
But a certain angel looking down from heaven heard this, and broke 
off the disconrse, lest it should proceed further towards profaning mar- 
riages, and he said to him, Ascend hither and I will show to the life 
what heaven is and what hell is, and of what quality the latter is 
to confirmed scortators. He showed the way and he ascended. 
After reception he was led first into a paradisal garden where were 
fruit trees and flowers, which, from their beauty, pleasantness and 
firagrance filled the mind with the utmost delight ; which, when he 
saw, he admired with great admiration, but he was then in external 
sight, such as he was in in the world, and in this sight he was ra- 
tional, but in internal sight, in which scortation took the lead and 
occupied every point of thought, he was not rational For that 
reason his external sight was shut and his internal sight was opened ; 
which, being opened, he exclaimed, "What do I now see ? Is not 
this straw and dry wood ? And what do I now perceive ? are they 
not stinking things ? "Where are now the paradisal things ? The 
angel answered ; They are near and they are present, but they do 
not appear before your internal sight which is scortatory, for this 
turns heavenly things into infernal and sees nothing but opposites. 
Every man has an internal mind and an external mind, thus internal 
sight and external sight. "With the evil, the internal mind is insane, 
but the external is wise ; but with the good the internal is wise and 
from this the external also : and as the onind is, so man in the spiritual 
world sees objects. 

" After this, the angel, from power given him, shut up the man's 
internal sight and opened his external sight, and conducted him 
where he saw magnificent palaces of alabaster, marble, and various 
precious stones, and beside them porticoes, and round about columns 
overlaid and surrounded with stupendous ornaments and decorations. 
"When he saw these things, he was amazed and said, "What do I 
see? I see magnificent things in the utmost magnificence, and 
architectural things in their very art — but at that moment the angel 



NOTES. 349 

shut up his external sight and opened the internal, which was evil, 
because filthy; which being done, he exclaimed, saying. What do I 
now see? "Where am I? Where are now the palaces and magni- 
ficent things? I see nothing but heaps of rubbish and cavernous 
places. But presently he was brought back into external sight, and 
introduced into one of the palaces, and saw the decorations of the 
gates, of the windows, of the walls and of the ceilings, and especially 
of the utensils, upon which and around which were heavenly forms 
of gold and precious stones, which can not be described by any 
words, nor delineated by any art, for they were above the ideas of 
language, and above the conceptions of art. On seeing these things 
he again exclaimed, These are more marvellous things than the eye 
has ever seen. But at this moment his internal sight was opened, his 
external sight being shut as before, and he was then asked what he 
saw. Nothing, he answered, but walls, here of bulrushes, there of 
straw, and in another place of burnt sticks. 

" But yet again he was brought into an external state of mind, 
and virgins were presented to him who were beauties because images 
of heavenly affections, and they addressed him with the sweet voice 
of their affection ; and at that moment from seeing and hearing them 
his face was changed and he returned of himself into his internals, 
which were scortatory ; and because such internals can not endure 
any thing of heavenly love, and on the other hand can not be endured 
by heavenly love, both parties vanished, the virgins from the sight 
of the man, and the man from the sight of the virgins. After this 
the angel instructed him whence were the inversions of the states 
of liis sight, saying, I perceive that in the world from which you 
have come you were double, one man in externals and another in 
internals; that in externals you were a civil, moral and rational 
man, but in your internals the reverse, because a whoremonger and 
an adulterer, and such, when they are permitted to ascend into 
heaven and are there held in their externals can see the heavenly 
things therein, but when their internals are opened, in place of 



350 NOTES. 

heavenly things they see infernal ones. Know that, with every one 
here the externals are successively closed and the internals opened, 
and thus they are prepared for heaven or hell. And because the 
evil of scortation defiles the internals of the mind above every other 
evil, it is not possible that you should not be carried down to the 
filthy things of your love, and these things are in hell. After hear- 
ing this he descended and returned into the world of spirits and to 
his former companions, to whom he spoke modestly and chastely but 
still not long." — [Gonjugial Love, 4*7 Y.) 



XIII. 

''THE SHEPHERD OF CYPRUS." 

Page 210. 

This Poem is written according to the ScicDce of Correspondences, 
and involves spiritual truths in its interior signification. 

The general truth tauglit is this — that the human soul m. child- 
hood or a state of infancy is conjoined with the celestial heavens, 
and receives influx from thence, which by a powerful, subordinating 
control over all natural passions prepares it for a life on earth of great 
usefulness and for heaven hereafter. 

The boy represents the human mind as to the understanding or 
intellectual principle : the girl represents the will or emotional prin- 
ciple. Their tending sheep together at the foot of the mountain 
represents their harmony in a state of natural goodness. The num- 
ber of sheep, twenty-four, twelve to each, represents the fullness or 
completeness of that innocent state. Thus prepared for the revela- 
tion and reception of interior or spiritual goodness, they cross the 
stream, which, like the Jordan or river of death, represents the boun- 
dary line between the natural and spiritual. 

Their being attracted to the mountain summit by invisible music 
represents that no didactic or philosophic impression is made upon 



NOTES. 351 

the tender mind at this stage, but it is operated upon through its 
affections — music representing those interior emotions which can not 
be analyzed. The tender, loving impulses which come over them as 
they ascend the mountain, represent the increasing influx of divine and 
angelic love into the soul, corresponding to its spiritual ascent or eleva- 
tion towards the celestial sphere. St. John, the Apostle of Love, appears 
to them, representing conjunction with and percej)tion of the celestial 
heavens. Children on earth in the innocence of ignorance really re- 
ceive interior lessons and suggestions of celestial love from angels 
who like John have attained to the innocence of wisdom. 

The soul now quickened and enlightened by such intercourse with 
the highest heavens, descends again to the cares and duties of life. 
The Lamb accompanying the wiU principle represents the state of 
innocence which is derived from the Lord. The eagle accompanying 
the intellectual principle, represents the strength and clearness of the 
understanding in its perception of spiritual truth. The lion and ser- 
pent being harmless and asleep, represent that the natural passions 
and thoughts are entirely subordinated to the spiritual passions and 
thoughts of a soul which is truly regenerated, or in heavenly order. 

On crossing the magic line, spiritual things disappear from natural 
sight ; but the effect is now visible in the natural sphere. The little 
girl dies, or is elevated to the celestial angels as John predicted, and 
the boy becomes a disciple of John, and finally an Apostle of Truth. 
In other words, the will principle is truly and fully elevated into 
heaven, or sanctified whilst the understanding becomes thereafter a 
better and fitter medium and minister of divine truth. 

The wild beasts by which the holy old man is devoured represents 
that gross, wicked and sensual character of mind which not only fails 
to appreciate, but ignores, hates and would always destroy every 
manifestation of divine truth. Greek and Roman Philosophy was 
of this sensuous and naturalistic type, and waged incessant war 
against Christian spirituality, but was extinguished by the more vital 
power. 



352 NOTES. 

XIV. 

"THE aEAVEYARD." 

Page 232. 

" The grandsire, from his honored bier, 
Eose up to share immortal youth." 

" They who dwell iu heaven are continually advancing towards 
the vernal season of life, and the more thousands of years they live 
there, the more delightful and happy is the state of Spring to which 
they attain, and this goes on to eternity with continual increments, 
according to the progressions and degrees of their love, charity and 
faith. Those of the female sex who had died old women, quite worn 
out with age, but who had lived in faith in the Lord, in charity to- 
ward the neighbor, and in happy conjugial love with their husband, 
come more and more in the course of years into the flower of youth, 
accompanied with such beauty as surpasses every idea of beauty 
perceptible to the sight. In one word, in heaven to grow old is to 
grow young." — (Heaven and Hell, 414.) 



XV. 

"ITEW THANATOPSIS." 

Page 235. 

I FIND the relations between the spiritual and natural body of 
man so lucidly described in a little New Church Tract on " Death 
and the Resurrection," (Philadelphia Series, ISTo. 3), that I will avail 
myself of some of its paragraphs to give the reader a clearer insight 
into the philosophic and religious teachings of the Poem. 

" There is an outer world and an inner ; in the one every thing, 
even the least, is material : in the other everv thing, even the least. 



NOTES. 353 

is of spiritual substance. These two -worlds are the creation of the 
infinite and eternal Jehovah. He has created them from his Divine 
love by means of his Divine wisdom, and these two essentials of his 
Divine nature are united in every thing which exists from him, 
whether in the natural world or in the spiritual. Whatever, then, 
of the Good and True is the object of our senses in the material 
world must be regarded as the Divine love and wisdom in their 
ultimate effect; and whatever of like character exists in the spiritual 
world, as these same Divine principles in their higher, purer aad 
more perfect degrees of manifestation. These two worlds are most 
intimately related, even as soul and body in man. For as the body is 
dependent on the soul or spirit for aU it has of life, motion and use, 
so is the material world dependent on the spiritual world within for 
all it possesses of beauty, form, motion, harmony and use. They 
stand related to each other therefore as cause and effect. Indeed aU 
the phenomena of this natural world are so many effects or combina- 
tions of effects, the ends and causes of which must be sought in the 
spiritual world. There is not a single thing in any one of its three 
kingdoms, mineral, vegetable or animal, whicli does not derive its 
origin from the spiritual world. 

" The sun with his heat, light and other imponderable agents, 
together with the atmosphere, waters, and all things else existing 
and subsisting from him, are so many out forms (or outbirths) of ele- 
ments and principles existing in the spiritual world, and, in the lan- 
guage of the New Church, are called corres'pondences of those things 
which are their prototypes in that world. This material world, there- 
fore, considered as a whole, is but one grand symbol of a still more 
perfect, beautiful, and glorious world within, and every part, even in 
its least, is a correspondence of something existing in that world. 
But a truth which we should most carefully keep before our minds 
while considering this subject, is that while these worlds are thus 
intimately related the one to the other, they are yet most distinct 
from each other ; for what is material can have nothing in common 



354 NOTES. 

with what is spiritual. Each substance has its own proper laws, 
and they can uo more commingle than the thoughts and affections 
of the mind can chemically combine with the fibers comjDOsing the 
head and face of the human body. But while thus distinct, these 
two worlds are most intimately conjoined b_7 means of the laws of 
corresidondence^ so as to constitute in the eye of him that made them 
but one world. 

" Every created being commences the career of his existence in the 
material world, the lowest sphere of creation. Divine order requires 
this, for there is no angel, much less any evil spirit, created such. 
But every inhabitant of the spiritual world, whether good or evil, 
whether an angel of the highest heaven or spirit of the lowest hell, 
was once an inhabitant of some material earth, and what he is now 
is the orderly consequence of what he was while in that state. The 
order of man's progression is from external things to internal, from 
natural things to spiritual, from earth to heaven. 

" Hence it is that man is endowed with a twofold nature ; one 
constituting him an inhabitant of the natural world, the other of the 
spiritual at one and the same time. And he possesses the senses, 
organs and faculties both mental and bodily, which are adapted to 
these two modes of existence. He possesses a material body and 
mental faculties connected with it, which adapt him to this world 
and its uses, and within the material a spiritual body with mental 
faculties which adapt him to the spiritual world and its uses. This 
inner or spiritual body, like the outer or material, is human in form. 
It is indeed the man himself; for it is the form of his mind, and 
hence the dwelling-place of his thoughts and affections, the subject. 
of all consciousness, the scat of the memory, and of every other men- 
tal faculty. In fine, all that he has thought and willed, said, learned 
and done, enjoyed and suffered, is treasured up within tliis form — 
inscribed upon it in characters which are indelible. The material 
body in the view of the New Church is in itself dead, destitute alike 
of motion and sensation, the passive instrument of the spiritual body 



NOTES. 355 

within, the medium through which that body holds commuDion with 
the natural world, and acts and performs uses in that world. It is 
the spiritual not the material body which really sees and hears, feels, 
tastes and touches. The material body is but a tissue of fibers, so 
organized as to permit the spiritual to receive these impressions from 
the outer world. 

" With these consideratiens in view, we may understand some- 
thing of the nature of death and the resurrection, or how man is 
removed to the spiritual world. Death is but the withdrawal of the 
spiritual form from the material, with which it is clothed while in 
this w^orld. When the material body is no longer capable of serving 
the spiritual as a medium between it and this woi'ld, or when the 
material has fully served its function in gathering up from this world 
all that can ever be useful to the indwelling spiritual, then it is cast 
off and dies, falls back again into the lowest kingdom of the material 
world, becomes subject once more to the chemical and physical laws 
of that world, is resolved back into the ultimate elements and parti- 
cles of which it is built up, and thus enters into the composition of 
other material forms. 

" But the spiritual body rises into the world proper to it, and which 
is its true and eternal home. All of man that can die is the material 
body ; but he himself can never die. What is commonly called death 
is only the passage of man from one world to another. It is simply 
a fact, or as it may be termed, a single point in the orderly process 
of the spirit's development; a process as strictly in accordance with 
the laws of Divine order as that by which the caterpillar is changed 
into the butterfly. The caterpillar contains within itself the butterfly, 
which may at any time be disengaged by dissection. While the 
caterpillar is feeding upon the food proper to it, and developing itself, 
the butterfly is also developing itself, and when the caterpillar dies, 
immediately breaks forth from its chrysalid prison-house, and enters 
upon a new and higher mode of existence, feeding upon finer, 
choicer, more exquisite food than before, and entering on new and 



356 NOTES. 

higher uses and dehghts. But this analogy fails in one very import- 
ant particular, which is, that while the butterfly, like the caterpillar 
in which it is for the time enveloped, is mate7~ial, with man, on the 
contrary, the outer form alone is material, the inner being spiritual, 
and having nothing in common with material substance. 

" The New Church teaches that man, after having left this world 
and entered upon the life of the spirit, never returns to take upon 
himself a material body ; for this would be as directly opposed to 
the order of things as for the butterfly, after sporting in the balmy 
air of Spring, and roaming through fields of flowers and sweets, to 
turn back in its course, and creep into the hard, horny case which 
nurtured and protected it in its chrysalid state, or for an eagle, after 
soaring into the empyrean and drinking in the rays of the sun, to 
return to the nest which cradled liis infancy, and attempt to clothe 
himself in the shell from which he was hatched." 

" That when a man passes from the natural into the spiritual 
world, as he does when he dies, he takes with him all things belong- 
ing to him as a man except his terrestrial body, has been proved to 
me by manifold experience. For when he enters the spiritual world 
or life after death, he is in a body as he was in the world ; to all 
appearance tliere is no difference whatever, because there is none 
that he can discover either by touch or sight. But his body is now 
spiritual in its nature and thus separated or purified from the terres- 
trial particles ; and when what is spiritual touches and sees what is 
spiritual, the effect to the sense is exactly the same as when what is 
natural touches and sees what is natural. The man whe>i a spirit 
enjoys every sense, both internal and external, that he possessed in 
the world. He sees as before, he liears and speaks as before, he 
smells also and tavStes, and feels when he is touched as before, he 
longs also, he desires, he wishes, he thinks, he reflects, he is afiected, 
he loves, he wills as before, and a person who takes pleasure in study 
reads and writes as before. In a word, a man's transit from one Hfe 



NOTES. 357 

into the other or from one world into the other is hke a journey from 
one place into another, and he takes with him all things that he pos- 
sesses within himself as a man ; so that it can not be said that a man 
after death, his death being only that of his terrestrial body, has lost 
any thing that belonged to himself. He also carries with him his nat- 
ural memory, for every thing that he ever heard, saw, read, learned or 
thought, from his earliest infancy to the last day of his life he still retains. 
The natural objects, however, which are contained in his memory, not 
being capable of being reproduced in the spiritual world, remain quies- 
cent, just as they do with a man in the world when he does not 
think of them ; but, notwithstanding, they are reproduced when the 
Lord sees good." — {Swedenborg^s Heaven and Hell, 461.) 

" In what manner resuscitation is effected, has not only been re- 
lated to me, but has been shown to me by actual experience. I was 
myself made the subject of that experience, in order that I might 
fully know how the great change is accomplished, 

" I was brought into a state of insensibility as to the bodily senses, 
and thus nearly into the state of dying persons, the interior life never- 
theless remaining entire, together with the faculty of thought, that 
I might observe and retain in my memory the particulars of the pro- 
cess I was about to undergo, being such as is experienced by those 
who are being resuscitated from the dead. I perceived that the 
respiration of the body was almost taken away, the interior respira- 
tion which is that of the spirit remaining, conjoined with a slight and 
tacit respiration of the body. 

" There was opened, in the first place, a communication with the 
Lord's celestial kingdom as to the pulsation of the heart, because 
that kingdom corresponds to the heart in man. Angels belonging to 
that kingdom were also seen, some at a distance and two sitting near 
my head. By their means all affection proper to myself was taken 
away, but thought and perception still continued. I was in this 
state for some hours. The spirits who were around me then with- 



358 NOTES. 

drew, supposing I was dead. There was also perceived an aromatic 
odor like that of an embalmed corpse ; for when celestial angels are 
present, the effluvium of the corpse is perceived as an aromatic per- 
fume, on smelling which, spirits are unable to approach. By this 
means also evil spirits are driven away from the spirit of a man when 
he is first introduced into eternal life. The angels who sat at my 
head did not speak, but only communicated their thoughts with 
mine. "When their thoughts thus communicated are received, the 
angels know that the man's spirit is in such a state as to be capable 
of being drawn out of the body. The communication of their thoughts 
was effected by directing the aspect of their countenances on mine ; 
for it is by this means that communications of thought are produced 
in heaven. 

" As thought and perception remained with me, in order that I 
might know and remember how resuscitation is accomplished, I per- 
ceived that those angels first examined what my thoughts were, to 
see if they were similar to those of dying persons, which are usually 
engaged about eternal life, and that they wished to keep my mind 
occupied with such thoughts. It was told me afterwards that a 
man's spirit is kept in the last thoughts which he had whilst his body 
was expiring, till he returns to the thoughts which flow from the 
general or governing affection which had possessed him in the world. 
It was particularly given me to perceive and to feel also, that there 
was a drawing and as it were a pulling out of the interiors belong- 
ing to my mind, thus of my spirit, from the body ; and it was told 
me that this proceeded from the Lord, and that it is this which effects 
the resurrection. 

" The celestial angels who thus minister to the resuscitated person 
do not leave him, because they love every one; but if the spirit is 
such in quality that he can not longer continue in company with celes- 
tial angels, he feels a desire to depart from them. When he does so, 
angels of the Lord's spiritual kingdom come to him, by whom the use 
of light is given, for previously he saw nothing but only exercised his 



NOTES. 359 

thoughts. It was also shown me how this is done. Those angels seem 
to unroll as it were the coat of the left eye towards the nose, that the 
eye might be opened, and the fliculty of sight imparted. It appears 
to the spirits as if such an operation were actually performed ; but is 
only an appearance (significative of some spiritual process). After 
the coat of the eye has thus seemed to be drawn off, a lucid but 
Indistmct appearance is observed, like that which on first awaking 
from sleep, a man sees through his eyelids before he opens them. 
This indistinct lucid appearance as seen by me was of a sky-blue 
color, but I was afterwards informed that there are varieties in the 
color as seen by different persons. After this there is a sensation as 
if something were gently drawn off the face, and when this opera- 
tion is completed, the resuscitated person is introduced into a state 
of spiritual thought. That drawing off of something from the face is 
likewise, however, only an appearance, and by it is represented the 
passing from a state of natural thought into a state of spiritual 
thought. The angels use the utmost caution lest any idea should 
proceed from the resuscitated person but such as partakes of love. 
All this being done, they tell him that now he is a spirit. 

^' A iter the spiritual angels have imparted to the new-born spirit 
the use of Mght, they render him all the kind offices which in that 
state he can possibly desire, and instruct him respecting the things 
which exist in another life, so far as he is capable of comprehending 
them. But if the resuscitated person is of such character as not to 
be willing to receive instruction, he desires to withdraw from the 
company of those angels. The angels, notwithstanding, do not leave 
him, but he separates himself from their society; for the angels love 
every one, and desire nothing more than to perform kind offices to 
all, to give them instruction, and to take them to heaven, in which 
consists their supreme delight. When the spirit has thus separated 
himsell- from the society of the angels, he is taken charge of by good 
spirits, who, whilst he remains in their company, also do him all 
sorts of kind offices. If, however, his life in the world has been of 



360 NOTES. 

such nature that he can not abide in the company of the good, he 
also desires to be away from them. This conduct he repeats during 
a longer or shorter period of time, and in fewer or more instances, 
till he becomes associated with such spirits as completely agree with 
his life in the world. In their company he finds his own life, and 
what is wonderful, he then pursues a similar course of life to that he 
had led in the world. 

" I have conversed with some on the third day after their decease, 
when the process had been completed that is described above. Three 
of these had been known to be in the world, to whom I related that 
preparations were now being made for the burial of their body. I 
happened to say for their burial, on hearing which they were struck 
with a sort of stupor, and declared that they were alive, but that 
their friends might commit to the grave what had served them for a 
body in the world. They afterwards wondered exceedingly that when 
they lived in the body they did not believe there was such a life after 
death, and they were especially astonished that within the Church 
almost all are possessed by a similar incredulity.^''— (Reaven and Hell, 
448-58.) 






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